To Have and Hold Revised
by Lady Shadow
Summary: Revised and updated! There was a time when the Sorting Hat did not only sing out-of-tune jingles and place students in Houses. In Harry's seventh year, the headmaster decides to reopen this tradition. HPSS
1. Author's Notes

To Have and Hold (Revision)

Lady Shadow

Fanfiction:  
HP

HP/SS,RW/DM, Others

AU, Romance, Drama

R/NC-17

THIS PAGE WILL BE UPDATED OFTEN! XX= indicates new content

Rather than having Author's Notes at the beginning or end of each chapter, I've decided to simply update this one. Scroll down for new notes and important UPDATES!

**DISCLAIMER:** The following is a work of _fanfiction_ based on situations characters, and settings created and owned by JK Rowling, and any other legal associates. The author does not own nor claim to own any of the aforementioned situations, characters and settings. This work is completed for entertainment purposes only and no profit is made from the completion or publication of this work. No infringement of any rights, copyright or otherwise is intended.

**BETA**: Narcissa Black

FEEDBACK: PLEASE

E-MAIL: Serenitymoonshadow hotmail . Com

**SUMMARY**: There was a time when the Sorting Hat didn't _just_ sort Houses...

LIVEJOURNAL: Http: // www . ladyshadowdrake . livejournal . com

_AUTHOR'S NOTES_: Greetings! For those of you still here, welcome back and for those of you who are new to my mad world: welcome, welcome!

THIS STORY IS AU. THaH originally took place during the fifth year. It has been moved to the seventh. You will also notice that it is only cannon-compliant through roughly the fourth book, as the original was written -or partially, rather- prior to the release of OotP, and I have made absolutely no effort to make it compliant with the rest of the series.

There is also some silliness involved.

_**:::For those of you who have read the original and are curious:::**_

It has been an extremely long time since I've posted anything, I know. My intention was to get this finished before posting it. I wasn't *quite* successful, but I do believe that I am far enough ahead of the posting curve that I will be able to put out regular updates. The chapters are anywhere from 8-15 single-spaced standard word pages long, and therefore each chapter will be posted in multiple parts, so don't be upset if the "TWO::" heading shows up on "chapter four," etc., etc.,

The first few chapters will follow pretty much along the same the lines as the original (but hopefully with fewer mistakes, thank you, darling Narcissa) and the plot will also remain MOSTLY the same, but there will be new additions made. I've done my best to make it a little more realistic, have tried to explain the technicals a little bit better, and would be most appreciative if you'd let me know if I've gotten it right.

Over the years (yes, it has been that long) I have lost interest in this type of piece, I think, but THaH is one of my babies, so it *will* be finished. Once this revision is complete, however, I will likely not return to it and the following sequel will be in a drastically different tone.

For those of you who have been asking, once this is complete and posted, I will be revising/finishing the following pieces: (though not necessarily in this order, and peppered with whatever else I feel like writing.)

Mermidian Silke

Closet

Sweet Like Honey

All I Am: Fading Violins

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~12.09.08~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~XX_

New chapter up! I felt in the last version that the families and overall the rest of the world wasn't brought into the story enough, so I tried to fix that, at least a little, in the revision. With the Holidays coming up, I'm not sure I'll remember to post the next one on time, so I think I'll post the next chapter within the next week or so. But no complaining if the the next *scheduled* post doesn't make it out!

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~11.16.08~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

I attempted to upload this chapter a few days ago, and then again yesterday and FF dot net was being silly so it wouldn't take. Appears to have fixed itself though.

_I almost forgot to update this month! Sorry, the expansion was looming on the horizon and I suppose I got a little distracted. Maybe just a tiny little...okay, so I am wholly consumed. BUT I didn't forget, so here it is. _

Bachelor's party ahead!

Also, I've posted a comment made on the last chapter to my LJ: Http: // www . ladyshadowdrake . livejournal . com and have started a conversation on it, since it's a fairly common comment. I will try to do this more often.

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~10.11.08~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

So we've tried the long update with the long break between- work out better? I also thought I'd bring up a review that never ceases to make me giggle (it's one I received a few times on the original as well) : "All of Hogwarts has turned gay!" I would like to point out that, in fact, only two of the pairings discussed thus far are homosexual: HP/SS and RW/DM: All three of the other boys in Ron and Harry's dorm room have heterosexual and not many other pairings have been discussed thus far. But, I'm sure more on that later.

I've also reorgnanized updates on this page so that new updates appear at the top rather than having to scroll down.

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~09.17.08~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Nice long update for you. Several people have asked why I'm breaking up the chapters and the short answer is, "you like it better in the long run." It's either long updates for a few weeks and then tappering off into "whenever I have time to finish and polish the next chapter" (which, as anyone who has been here for a while knows, would not be very regular) OR short updates regularly. OR long updates with longer breaks between. We'll try the last.

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~09.01.08~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Sorry for the slight delay on the new installment. I was hiking! Yes, that's right, I was visiting The Outside.

Notes on the chapter: I may or may not expand upon Snape's sex-ed course (probably as an "outtake") but if I do, I'll make sure to note it ON THIS PAGE. The scene will probably be posted exclusively on my LiveJournal, listed above, _if_ I write it.

Immaturity ahead! Beware of a blushing Ronald Weasley!

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~08.14.08~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

In the first chapter, I tried, very hard, to keep dialog as 'true to life' as I could manage. But all the 'well' 'alright,' 'I mean,' and 'you know's drives me _mad_ every time I go back to read any of the older chapters. So I am currently in the process of fixing the dialog. It may not be as 'true to life,' but hopefully it will save my sanity.

All future chapters will also have a separator ( xXx ) at time and space jumps, rather than an additional space, since doesn't seem to support it.

Thank you so much for all the reviews! It's good to be back and I'm glad you seem to be enjoying it thus far. I may write for my own enjoyment, but it does help so much to know that other people are enjoying it as well. Please keep the comments and suggestions coming!

Also, I've gotten this question a few times recently:

Q: Why don't you post NC-17 scenes here when your story is clearly marked "M"? (or variants thereof in differing degrees of politeness)

A: I am so happy you seem to understand that the "M" rating means mature content. I agree with you! Unfortunately, whoever reported me last did not. The original THaH was already reported once and I had to make a new account and re-upload all of my stories.

I may or may not post the revision with the mature content intact. Either way, this story will be cross-posted to Skyehawk and Walking the Plank at some point in the near future. If I decide not to post the mature content here, you will find it in either of those two places or on my LJ: http: slash slash ladyshadowdrake dot livejournal dot com slash (I'm sure you're smart enough to put that back together.)


	2. ONE

ONE:

"Have you heard?" Ron asked excitedly as he threw himself into the seat across from Harry.

"Well, hello, I missed you too."

Ron grinned ruefully and tossed him an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, mate. How was your summer?"

"Hell. Yours?"

Ron laughed, just slightly, and shrugged. "A summer I guess. You got all my letters?"

Harry nodded. He cherished his friends' letters over the summer, even if he was unable to respond to any of them. "Now, what have I heard?"

"About the Sorting?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What, are all seventh years being re-Sorted or something?" he joked.

Ron rolled his eyes. "No." He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Of course you wouldn't know. Sorry." Harry had been completely cut off from the Wizarding world save some cleverly re-routed letters delivered by Muggle mail. "Alright, well, Dumbledore decided over the summer to reopen the _old_ Sorting tradition."

"And that old tradition was...?"

"Honestly, haven't you ever even _looked_ at _Hogwarts: A History_?" Ron asked sarcastically and Harry snorted. "Like a hundred years ago, or whatever, the Hat used to pick out peoples' husbands and wives."

Harry raised both eyebrows in shock. "Uh... wait. What?"

"My great-granddad found his wife that way." Ron shrugged. "They were pretty happy together and all."

"I... don't quite understand. Are you saying we're being pushed into arranged marriages this year?"

"Well... sorta. I mean, they are arranged and all, but the Hat pairs you with the person who's _perfect_ for you, you know? Like, the person who's magically the best for you, and who you'd be happy with and all." Ron shrugged. Honestly, he didn't really understand it all that well himself, but his parents had explained it to him, and Hermione had given him a (mostly ignored) lecture on the practice. "It's not mandatory, you know. Well, kinda not mandatory. I mean, your parents have to say it's okay."

"What if someone's parents said it was okay, but they didn't want to do it?"

"Well... they have to."

"What? That doesn't make sense."

"It's _old_ tradition, Harry." Harry shook his head, as though tossing the whole confusing situation off. "Even some graduates have been asked back to go through the Sorting. All _my_ brothers are doing it, 'cept Percy, because he's a prick."

"He's not allowing himself to be chained into an arranged marriage and that makes him a prick?" Harry asked. Honestly, he'd never really liked Percy all that well, but to him it sounded like the older man had the right idea. Ron shrugged. "Well," Harry continued, "I don't have anything to worry about. I doubt the Dursleys would agree to that anyways."

"Yeah, guess you're right."

"So... I guess you're doing it?" Harry asked, expecting but not relishing Ron's nod. He didn't think he should be so compliant. But then, there was a lot about the wizarding world and wizards specifically that still puzzled Harry. He sighed. "This is going to make for a very interesting year."

Ron snorted. "Since when have we _not_ had an interesting year? Seriously?"

Harry nodded. The last year was probably the most 'normal' of the lot, but that wasn't saying much considering that Harry spent a good deal of the year in Dumbledore's office learning all manner of things he didn't really _want_ to know about his destined nemesis, Voldemort. Or Tom, as Harry had secretly come to think of him.

"So... How does it work?" Harry asked finally.

"What? The Sorting? Well... you know, I'm not all _that_ sure. You should probably ask Hermione. Well... if you want a lecture that is. I did that." Ron shuddered and Harry laughed.

"You should have at least paid better attention if you'd already made the mistake!"

"Yeah... maybe." Ron grinned wolfishly. "But it's so hard to pay attention when she's sitting on my bed." Harry gaped at him and Ron blushed furiously, and then coughed to cover his discomfort. "I mean... well, you know what I mean!"

Harry laughed. "I know. I guess I saw it coming anyways. I mean, you've only been smitten with her since second year."

If possible, Ron blushed an even darker shade of crimson. "Just... don't say anything to her, alright?"

Harry snorted. "If she doesn't know by now, she's the only one." Ron bit his lip nervously and began to fiddle with his hands.

"So, what if someone who _has_ agreed to do the Sorting gets paired with someone who _hasn't_?" Grateful to have the subject changed, Ron's brows drew together in a frown.

"You know... I really don't know. Most people probably will have agreed to it, you know. It's not uncommon for witches and wizards to get Sorted into marriages."

"It's not?" Harry asked, confused.

"Nope. It just hasn't happened at school in a long time. You can still go to the Department of Weddings and Arrangements and get a kind of Sorting. Prolly not as good as the Hat, of course."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course."

Ron laughed and then the trolley came by and Harry purchased the year's first stash of treats and snacks.

"Well, hello boys," Hermione greeted coolly. Harry stared at her in stunned confusion until she laughed and gave them both her customary hugs.

"That's better. Thought you were angry at us already," Harry offered, smiling.

She rolled her eyes. "No, not yet anyways." They quickly picked a carriage, Harry taking care to ignore the thestrals pulling them as they climbed in. "So, I guess Ron's already filled you in on the newest development."

Harry nodded. "Mostly anyways."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You didn't pay attention to a single word I said, did you?" she asked, leveling an accusing glare at Ron.

"Hey! Where'd you get that from?" He gave Harry a betrayed look and Harry shrugged. Hermione rolled her eyes again and turned her "business look" on Harry.

"Well, what do you want to know?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know really. I'm not even participating, so I guess it doesn't matter _that_ much. Are... are you?"

Hermione bit her lip, blushed, and then nodded. Both Ron and Harry stared at her in shock.

"Honestly! You really didn't pay attention to _one single word_!" She huffed and petted Crookshanks roughly. The cat glanced up at her with an almost annoyed look and made a sharp noise that sounded more like a bark than a meow. She obligingly slowed her annoyed petting and looked up at her two best friends. "Yes, I _am_ participating."

"But... I would have thought that _you_, of all people, would be _against_ this!"

"Well, at first I was. But I did some research. It's not a bad practice really."

"Then why hasn't it been done for a hundred years?"

"Well, at least he _almost_ got that right. In 1906 a parent board decided that it was no longer 'practical' or 'modern.' After that, hundreds of private agencies that make pairings popped up. Most of them were, of course, charlatans. They just randomly chose two people and married them off. As you would imagine, problems ensued. In 1957 the ministry took control of the outrageous problem and outlawed independent mass agencies. There are still a few small independent agencies, but they have to go through an insane licensing process and it makes them very expensive. Generally only the rich purebloods use them. Everyone else has to go to the Ministry of Marriages and Arrangements. The fee is still pretty high though, and the results aren't guaranteed."

"Oh."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Did you absorb _any_ of that?"

Both boys glared at her. "We're not _stupid_, 'Mione!" Ron protested.

"No, you just have a horrible habit of _acting _like you are. So, I take it you didn't even hear about this over the summer?" she asked, turning to look at Harry. He copied the look she'd given them mere moments before and Hermione had the decency to blush. "No, I suppose not. How was your summer?" she asked sheepishly, blushing again when she realized she hadn't even bothered to ask yet.

"Just peachy. You know, cut off from all contact with the outside world, no one to hear me scream, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera."

"Oh, Harry! What did they do to you?!"

Harry laughed. "Nothing, Hermione. It was just fine. They mostly ignored me, which is all right by me."

She glared at him. "You shouldn't make me worry like that!"

"For all of two seconds," Harry countered, smiling.

She rolled her eyes and huffed again. "Even for all of two seconds!"

Harry laughed again. "You know, I think you're spending too much time with that cat of yours," he decided.

Ron grinned. "I think Harry's right. You two are acting more and more alike by the day." Hermione rolled her eyes and Crookshanks began to knead at her lap. Hermione stuck out her tongue in a very immaturish sort of way. They laughed, and for a moment they weren't terrified of the upcoming year or the upcoming Sorting, or the strange shadow of the 'real world' that loomed over them like a Dementor in the darkness. Like this wouldn't, possibly, be their last year of careless laughter and sticking out their tongues.

"I would like to extend my warmest welcome to the newest members of the Hogwarts family, and wish you all a wonderful first year! And to our returning students, welcome home! This year will be a remarkable and vastly different year, as many of you well know. For some it will be your last, for some your first. For all, it may change the course of your lives." Dumbledore smiled charmingly. "Most of you have been notified of the old Sorting tradition being reopened this year. For those of you who don't know, or are still uncertain of exactly what that entitles, fear not! The beginning of your first class on the morrow will be devoted to "filling you in" and after classes on Wednesday all Heads of House will be holding a question and answer session that you are encouraged to attend." He continued on with the general announcements: the Forbidden Forest was still Forbidden, Filch was still on the prowl, Hagrid would be returning to once again teach Care of Magical Creatures at the end of January, and Professor Trelawney would be teaching only seventh year Divinations. Despite the enormity of the "Sorting tradition," Hogwarts was still very much Hogwarts. Harry shook his head slightly; some things never changed.

"Uh... Mis-Mister Potter?" Harry looked up. Behind him, a first year, covered in makeup and bows was standing nervously with her arms crossed in front of her chest and a notebook squeezed between her arms and her as of yet unformed breasts.

"Yes?" he asked, giving her a patient look. Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened in shook, seemingly unable to believe that he was talking to her. "Can I help you?"

"I... I... my name is Alesia."

"Uh... hi?" he offered and she grinned, flushing excitedly.

"I... well, I mean... I just wanted to... you know... say... hi."

"Well... hi." She bit her lip nervously, and began to fiddle with her notebook. "Is there something you wanted?"

"Umm... I... well, you see, my mother... and well, she really, really, really... you know, I mean likes you. Not like _likes_ you, likes you, because that would be... weird. But," she stammered, blushing. "Um... she asked if, you know, maybe if I met you... well, seeing as I did meet you... and uh..."

"And...?" Harry prompted, doing his best to be patient. The first month or so usually went a lot like this. He supposed he should be used to it.

"Could you sign this?" she asked hopefully.

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked at the notebook being thrust awkwardly at him. "I... don't really sign things," he said, obviously uncomfortable. He knew from experience that if he agreed to sign anything, not only would all the new "Harry Potter's Best Friend" hopefuls be throwing pictures and notes at him, but Snape and Malfoy wouldn't leave him alone. And he already had enough to worry about without adding that particular stress to the mix.

"Oh." She looked so damn crestfallen.

Ron laughed. "C'mon, mate! And she even worked up all her courage to come over here too!"

"Ron!" Harry hissed, doing his best to ignore Alesia's suddenly hopeful expression. Ron snickered. So did the rest of the Gryffindor seventh years.

"Here," Harry said reluctantly. She excitedly pulled a pen out of the front of her shirt and offered it to him. He glanced briefly at the bright pink, feathered monstrosity before flipping the book open the front page.

"The Book of the Magnificent Harry Potter!!" was written across the front page in bright green dancing letters with hearts and stars everywhere. He looked up at Ron in horror and the other boy stood so he could see the page. He snorted and quickly stifled a laugh, covering it with a cough.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry Potter!" Hermione snatched the book and handed it back to the girl, plucking the pen unceremoniously out of Harry's slack grip. "Look, Alesia, I'm sure your intentions are nothing but pure and your... _mother_... would really like this signed, but Harry really doesn't do autographs."

"But-!"

"The sooner you get over this hero worship, the better off we'll all be. Go back to your giggling little gaggle of friends and tell them that Harry Potter smiled at you and be happy with that." Alesia stared at her in shock. Harry stared at her in shock. Ron was completely slack-jawed. "Go on," Hermione said firmly. With one last hopeful look at Harry, Alesia turned on her heel, flipped her long chestnut hair over her shoulder and flounced off.

"Hermione!" Ron gasped in astonishment. Hermione gave him a cold stare.

"Well, _some_one's marking her territory pretty strongly this year," Seamus teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly! I was just doing what you were being too '_nice' _to do yourself! You all know damn well that if he had signed that blasted piece of fan girl mania, he'd never be left alone. And furthermore, Snape and Malfoy would _both_ tear into him."

"Well... but, 'Mione... you came off standing sounding... like a... I dunno-"

"Jealous girlfriend," Ginny supplied. She was looking over at Alesia and her "giggling gaggle of friends" with a look of knowing pity. She'd never been quite _that_ bad (of course the memory of her botched valentine popped into her head immediately) but she knew what it was like to be caught in the whirlwind that was "The-Boy-Who-Lived."

"So, Harry you coming to that Q and A thing on Wednesday?"

"Why?" Harry asked, prodding at his pudding.

Ron shrugged. "Curiosity? Moral support?" Harry rolled his eyes, but smiled at his friend. As calm as he acted, it was obvious Ron was a little nervous about the whole thing.

"Sure, I'll come. Can't promise I'll pay attention and not sleep, but I'll come."

Ron grinned gratefully. "That's okay. I can't promise that either."

Hermione rolled her eyes and returned to her newest novel.

The next day dawned bright and cheery. Through breakfast it was refreshing, if not slightly annoying in all its cheerful brilliance, but once filtered through the grimy windows of the dungeon, it took on a dark, mocking presence.

As he walked through the dank dungeon halls he performed a mental checklist of who in his year would be taking Potions with him. Hermione, possibly Dean, and maybe Patil. The list was depressingly short. He sighed, but pushed the Potion's room door open and walked in.

_Either I'm extremely early_, Harry thought, looking helplessly around the room _Or I'm the only Gryffindor taking this class. _It became obvious mere moments later that the latter was true and Harry groaned.

Harry sighed, shifted in his chair, and waited miserably for Snape to sweep into the room. In his sixth year, Harry seemed to develop an odd talent for potions. Snape, noticing this, seemed to develop a more earnest interest in making sure Harry was miserable. Yet, despite the professor's apparent best efforts, Harry had passed his final with a sufficient score to be accepted into the professor's prestigious seventh year NEWT level class.

"Well, welcome back," Snape announced dryly, stepping into the room in a very un-Snape-ish sort of way and going straight to his desk. "And, I suppose congratulations are in order. Not only have you managed to survive six years of incompetent classmates, but you've also managed to pass the weeding process and make into my NEWT level course." Harry couldn't help but feel cheated somehow. That was all? Six years of hell, and that was all?! _Congratulations?!_

"Are you trying to attract flies, Mr. Potter?" Snape inquired in a tone that could only be termed 'mild.' _Mild_!

"I... No, sir." He closed his mouth with a snap and looked around the room. Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and him. Three people. That was it. Two Slytherins and him. Great Merlin! What a year _this _was shaping up to be!

"Now, being that this _is_ a NEWT level class, and furthermore this is _my_ NEWT level class, I expect that I shall not have to baby-sit you. This class will be difficult, and it will be very fast paced. You will have no homework, and will spend your time studying. At this point _every_ _single_ assignment is absolutely critical _and_ if you wish to pass your NEWTs at all, yet alone with a decent score, you will do as I say, you will do your work, and you will _study_. Do I make myself clear, boys?"

"Yes, sir."

"I can see the little wheels turning in your little heads as you wonder where our resident super overachiever is this year. Quite simply put, Miss Granger no longer wished to continue her career in Potions, and I've certainly made no complaints." His gazed locked onto Harry. "And therefore, you'll have to come up with all the answers between the three of you."

"Now," he continued briskly. "I have been asked, as all period one professors have been asked, to go over this Sorting Tradition with you. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini, I'm going to assuming that your parents have thoroughly educated you on the tradition and you will be participating?" Both boys nodded and Snape dismissed them with a wave of his hand. "Then you may begin today's assignment. Mr. Potter, if you would please?" He made a beckoning gesture with one long, stained finger. Harry reluctantly got out of his seat and approached the front of the room.

"Sir, you don't need to talk to me either, I won't be participating."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No, sir."

"Well then, get your station ready, and you may begin." He then raised his voice slightly to address his other two students as well while Harry walked numbly back to his desk and pulled out his book. "I will be grading papers. If you require assistance, and cannot get it from your fellow classmates, you may approach my desk."

_Approach his...?_ Harry couldn't help but let his jaw drop. One of Snape's main rules had always been "Don't come anywhere near my desk." Harry shook his head and concentrated on the front board. The assignment was a review potion from the end of the year before and Harry was reasonably sure he would be able to complete it without assistance. Whether Snape would accept it as satisfactory was likely another story entirely.

"Potter, what are you doing?"

Harry looked up at Malfoy with a glare. "Getting my station ready."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Come up here."

Harry straightened up and glared hotly. "No thank you; if you don't mind, I'll just

stay where I am."

"Potter, stop being a git," Blaise piped up. "There are only three of us. You being back there just scatters the mess." Harry looked at him suspiciously, and Blaise made a dismissive gesture before turning back to his own cauldron. Harry watched their backs for another moment, but in the end decided to stay where he was and finished setting up his station.

"Well, Mr. Potter, despite this being _review_ and my best advice to the contrary, you did _not_ come and ask for assistance when you apparently started having trouble."

Harry looked up almost guiltily. He had accidentally added too many cotton fibers, and had tried to correct it by adding papyrus fiber, which _usually_ would have worked, but he'd forgotten that papyrus reacts unfavorably with frog eggs when combined with cotton. He sighed.

"I'm sorry. I thought I could fix it myself."

Snape rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you have any idea, Mr. Potter, why I let you _in_to this class in the first place?"

"Uh... well..."

"It would appear your vocabulary has not expanded much in six years. Think about it _very_ carefully, and you may give me your answer after classes."

"What?"

"Any potion you fail or fail to get an Outstanding on, you will repeat until you can do so in your _sleep_." Harry's mouth fell open and Snape gave him his trademarked condescending smirk. "Had I neglected to mention? Well, now you know. Perhaps next time you will lower yourself to asking for _assistance,_ hm?"

Harry barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes and instead said, "Yes, sir."

"Clean it up, and get out your book."

"What's the assignment, sir?"

"And once again, you prove you have no capacity to pay attention to anything that does not involve a skirt or broom. No homework, Potter. Your goal in this class is to successfully pass your NEWT examination. Therefore, you will _study _to pass your NEWT examination. If you decide not to study… well, that's hardly any fault of mine, now is it?"

Again, he almost rolled his eyes. Just almost. "Do you have any suggested reading?"

Snape inclined his head, and flipped the book open to the back. "Questions?" he asked dryly.

Harry blushed. He _had_ gone over the book, but he _hadn't_ realized that there a "suggested study path for success with your Potions NEWT" in the back. He cleared his throat. "No, sir."

Snape nodded and walked off to look in on his two Slytherins.

Just as Harry was finishing his notes on the first section of the suggested text, the bell rang. Gratefully, he began to pack up.

"Today and for the rest of the year, you are dismissed when the bell rings."

Harry felt his jaw drop yet again. He well remembered Snape's rants on, 'The bell does not dismiss you: I do.'

"You look like a landed fish, Potter. I would assume at this point that you _know_ I will fry you in three oils should you leave my room a mess. Or am I mistaken? Do you still require me to come inspect your station before you can leave?" Harry shook his head, still too shocked to speak. "I didn't think so. I'll see you after classes. _Promptly_ after classes."

"Yes, sir."

"What's the matter, Potter? You seem a bit confused," Draco said as they walked out of the room.

Harry glared. "Bugger off, Malfoy." Draco rolled his eyes and walked off without further retort. Harry stared after him in confusion. What was going _on_ this year? Shaking his head as though to clear the confusion that swarmed around him like a dust cloud, Harry started for the library. He had a free period before Care of Magical Creatures and intended to spend it studying for his potions NEWT. Might as well get _some_thing in while he was still willing to study.

"You!" He declared, pointing at Hermione accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't going to be taking Potions this year?!"

"What, do I have to tell you _everything_?" Hermione asked sarcastically, looking up from her Advanced Runes text. She was seated at the library's smallest round table tucked back in the far corner of the history/biography section. It was a favorite seat for conscientious students and clandestine couples alike.

"Well, that might have been useful. At least it would have prepared me for class today!"

"Wait, you mean... _you_ took Potions this year?" Harry rolled his eyes and stared her. "Oh, my god! I had no idea that you'd developed an interest in potions, Harry!"

"Hermione! For Merlin's sake, woman! You _know_ how hard I studied for the OWLs and you _know_ that I was doing a _lot_ better in Potions!"

"Well, yes, but I didn't realize that you liked it well enough to continue a seventh year of it. After all, Ron copped out at five."

He rolled his eyes. "You still could have told me."

She shrugged and then laughed. "So, how many people are in the class?"

"Three."

"Three? Really, that's pretty high for Snape. Usually he gets one. I sort of figured that he would just have Malfoy. Who else?"

"Blaise Zabini."

Hermione winced. "Sorry, Harry." She gave him an apologetic smile and Harry rolled his eyes again, then waved at her dismissively.

"It's fine," he grumbled. "Will you help me study, at least?"

She nodded. "Of course." He sat down next to her and pulled out his Potions text and the notes he'd already taken. She pulled them over and set them up so she could read them. Harry had gotten _much_ better at notes sometime during the previous year and she gave a small nod of approval before picking up her quill and adding something along the margin.


	3. ONE b

"Greetings, wee little Weasley." Ron whirled. Charlie grinned. Ron glared. Harry laughed. "Oh, wipe that petulant kicked puppy look off your face, darling little brother."

"What are _you_ doing here?!" Ron demanded. "You're not being Sorted _already_ are you?!"

Charlie made a dismissively gesture with one hand. "Of course not. Alumni don't get Sorted until next Friday."

"Then why are you _here?"_

"What, did you think that you all were just going to sit around and stare at the sky until Hagrid gets back?"

"I... what?"

"You're teaching Care of Magical Creatures?" Harry asked. Next to him, Ron was slack-jawed and pale as a sheet.

Charlie grinned. "Sure am. Now come along, you're going to be late for your first class. Don't want that, now do you?"

"How _could_ you, Charlie?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

Charlie laughed, still gently propelling his brother down the path toward Hagrid's cottage where the rest of the seventh year class waited. "I thought it would be best to surprise you, Ronikins."

Ron dug his heals in and spun, putting both hands against his brother's chest to stop his forward motion. "Don't you _dare_ call me that in class," Ron warned.

"Or what? You'll tell mummy? Are you going to tattle on me, Ronikins?"

Ron bristled. "_Please?_!"

Charlie laughed again. Harry had always liked Charlie's laugh. It was a light, warm baritone that had always settled a pleasant warmth in his chest. "Calm down, Ron. You know I wouldn't do that to you. I'm not one of the twins, after all. I swear I will treat you as I would any other student. Happy?" Reluctantly, Ron nodded. "Alright, now let's go. It wouldn't look very good for the teacher to be late on the first day, now would it?"

The seventh years who had opted to take Care fit into a single class, so members from all four houses were present. Despite the combination, there were only nine people in the class. They looked up curiously as Charlie approached and Harry and Ron quickly moved to join them.

"Welcome gents and gentlewomen to Care of Magical Creatures. Now, don't feel too distressed; Hagrid will return mid-January to take over at the term. In the meantime, you'll just have to settle for me. I am Charlie Weasley, and yes, there is a relationship, and no, I will not play favorites, and no, being Ron's friend will not get you a passing grade. This may be my first year teaching, but I assure you I am no pushover, and you _will _work in this class.

"Now, today we are dealing with some tricky little creatures, so everyone put your books down, and follow me." He led them just past the line of trees leading the Forbidden Forest and then into a clearing Hagrid had used many times. In the center was a covered cage that the class gathered around cautiously. They were all veterans of Hagrid's "pets" and had learned to treat everything in the half-giant's care with nothing less than extreme suspicion. Old habits, it seemed, really did die hard.

"These, my little friends, are Chinese Wyverns," Charlie declared, pulling off the white covering to reveal two lizard-like creatures perched on wooden dowels. "Anyone here know what a wyvern is? Mr. Weasley?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "I didn't raise my hand," he complained.

"Neither did anyone else, but I _know_ you know. So?"

"A wyvern is a dragon-cousin."

"Also called?"

"Dragonkin."

"Good. And correct. Wyverns are _not _dragons, so don't get to thinking of them that way. They are however dragonesque, or dragon-like, and have many similarities to their older, bigger cousins. The Chinese breed also tends to run very small. These two are probably about as big as they're going to get, though the female may get a little larger just before she comes into season."

"Um...sir?"

"Yes, miss...?"

"Uh, Angela Wright." She blushed, and Charlie smiled, not missing the adoring look.

"Miss Wright. What's your question?"

"What do you mean by coming into season?"

"Ah, good question. And two points to Ravenclaw for participation."

"Hey! I participated!" Ron declared indignantly.

"No you didn't; you didn't raise your hand, remember?" Charlie said easily. "Coming into season refers to the time when female dragons or dragonkin become ready to bear offspring for the first time. Similar to when a human female starts her first menstrual cycle." There was giggling through the crowd and Charlie rolled his eyes. "If you're not going to be mature, I'm going to have to have you removed from this class. I believe Trelawney is still accepting seventh year students. Anything more to giggle about?"

"No, sir," chimed a few of the guilty students.

Charlie flashed them his winning grin. "Good. Now, I know you're probably all positively _shaking_ with anticipation to get a hold of these beauties, _but_ you won't get to today. In fact, you probably won't get to until next week at the earliest, and that's only if you show me you can be mature around delicate, and _dangerous_ things. These little babies may not be capable of shooting streams of fire a hundred feet into the air, but they can, and will, take off a hand if handled incorrectly. Let's begin."

xXx

"You know," Harry said as they left the clearing and headed for the castle. "He's not too bad."

Ron rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Yeah, yeah. Just as long as there's none of that 'Ronikins' bullocks." Ron shuddered and Harry laughed easily.

"Oh, is it really that bad having your older brother here? I remember a few years ago a certain someone complaining because he never got see his older brother enough," Harry reminded him.

"Is that so?" Ron froze, Harry winced, and Charlie laughed.

"Sorry, Ron," Harry mouthed. Ron made a furious gesture at him as they turned around.

"Of course it's not!" he said glaring at his brother. Charlie laughed and ruffled Ron's hair. He really didn't get to see his youngest brother enough and it was almost sad how much the boy had grown since he'd seen him last. They were almost the same height. He smiled warmly.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with admitting you like your family every now and then."

"With mine there is!"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I just wanted to catch up with you two and see what you thought. How'd I do?"

"Great!" Harry offered with a smile. "You're going to be a good professor."

"Thanks, Harry. What about you?"

"It was okay."

Harry rolled his eyes and nudged Ron in the side. "Don't be such a prat."

Ron rubbed his side as though he'd taken a Bludger to it and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Alright, it was pretty good and all. I mean, it wasn't bad or anything."

Charlie snorted and grinned at his little brother. "Looks like that's the best I'm going to get out of you. Anyways, thanks. And if you two every have any suggestions, don't hesitate to talk to me about them."

"Where are you staying, anyways?" Harry asked, shifting his books from his left arm to his right and resting them on his hip. He tossed his hair out of his eyes and looked up at the other man. It hadn't escaped his notice that Ron and his older brother were now nearly the same height. Nor had it escaped his notice that he barely came to Ron's nose. Inwardly he cursed the Durselys for all their years of neglect. His father had been pretty tall, or so he'd been told, and in the pictures he'd seen, his mother seemed to be above average height for a woman. And yet Harry hadn't grown an inch past five foot seven.

"At Hagrid's for the time being. I suppose I might move into the castle later, but we'll see. I kind of like it out there. It's quiet and it actually stays pretty warm. Plus, I'm close to all the animals and the Forest and such." Charlie shrugged. "But you two should get going. Don't you have another class right now?"

"Transfiguration! We better run, or McGonagall'll _kill_ us. Not to mention what _'Moine _is gonna do!" Ron tugged on Harry's sleeve and Charlie waved amicably as they ran for the castle.

xXx

By the time Wednesday came around, the castle was positively _charged_ with excited energy. Harry didn't think everyone would be so compliant about this whole marriage thing, yet alone so excited about it.

"I just don't get it, Hermione. I would think more people would be at least a _little_ upset."

Hermione shrugged. "Arranged marriages are just not that unusual to wizards, Harry. And furthermore, this isn't like your _parents _making an arrangement for you, or like your father getting three sheep in exchange for your hand, you know? This is an arrangement _truly_ in the best interest of the child."

"Shouldn't you be able to choose who want to marry? I get the whole 'perfect match' thing... but what if your perfect match isn't someone you're _compatible_ with? What if it's someone who _magically_ you're perfect for, but in everything else you can't stand each other?"

"It's a very complicated process, Harry, but you didn't want the whole lecture, so I'm not going to give you one. Just trust me; it's a fair and honest practice."

"Then why can't the students decide whether or not they want to be Sorted?"

"Because they're still minors, Harry. And according to old law, -most new laws even- parents have the legal right to make choices like this for their children until they're twenty-one."

"Why twenty-one? I thought coming of age for wizards was sixteen," Harry countered.

"Now _that_ would be a lecture." She gave him a smile and he sighed. "Come on, Harry, the Q and A class is about to start. I'm sure you can ask any questions you want there. Plus, didn't Snape pass out those pamphlets?" Harry shook his head. "Well, I guess he wouldn't really need to. Malfoy and Zabini are both high class purebloods, so they've probably had the entire tradition drilled into them until they were sick. But not to you?"

"I'm not participating. There wasn't really a need."

"Well, here, you can have mine. And if you're still curious, there are books on it in the library. Okay?" Harry reluctantly nodded and Hermione gestured with her head that they should get going.

Ron met them just outside the door to the Transfiguration classroom. When he saw them coming, he pushed himself away from the wall where he was leaning and made an impatient gesture with both hands.

"Jeeze, you guys, I thought you'd ditched me or something!"

"Honestly, Ronald, we're not late yet," Hermione said with a small huff, tossing her curly hair over one shoulder and walking straight past him into the classroom. Ron sarcastically mouthed her words at her back and Harry laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

"You two would make a perfect pair," he whispered, making Ron blush.

"She's infuriating!"

"I'm sure that's what you love best about her too," Harry said with a laugh, propelling his friend into the classroom. Hermione had gone straight to the front of the room and was seated in the middle of the table with her coat on the chair to her left and her books on her chair to her right. Taking the hint, the two boys sat on her either side.

"Now, make sure you two pay attention. Especially _you_, Ron." She offered them flattened parchment and quills which they took, knowing they'd get death glares if they didn't. "I don't expect you to take detailed notes, though you probably should, considering that this is concerning your _immediate_ future, but you should at least write down some questions and the answers to them." Harry shrugged, picked up the quill and started writing down some of the questions he'd been unsuccessfully asking since learning of the new Sorting.

"All right, I guess that's everyone. Take your seats please!" McGonagall said, ushering students away from the door and closing it behind her.

"_Is_ this everyone?" Harry asked, looking around. He would have thought more people would be there. Hermione gave the room a glance.

"More people than I thought actually."

"I don't see anyone under fifth year here," Harry said, his brow furrowed.

"Of course you don't. Only fifth through seventh years can participate," Hermione said casually, looking up as McGonagall walked by to her desk.

"Now, this is, as you know, a question and answer session. But I will start with a brief overview. Hopefully that will answer most of your questions and prevent me from having to repeat myself.

"This is a very important tradition that dates back to the founding of the school. All persons participating in the Sorting are made known to the Hat, giving it a pool from which to draw. When you place the Hat on your head, it goes through every other person in its pool and compares them magically to you. From that pool, the Hat selects the person best suited to you and announces the pairing. Back when this tradition was new they were merely partners, so to speak, but did not have any marital or social obligations to one another. It was, however, so common for partners to wed that over the years and with various laws, spells, social upheavals, and changes in headmasters, it became a Marriage Sorting specifically. For those of you who are wondering; you are not under contractual obligation past your twenty-first birthday to _remain_ with the person that Hat chooses for you _unless_ there is an outside contract implemented, as some of our more traditional families still do with marriages.

"And I suppose it is also imperative that I mention that you are also not obligated to physically consummate your union." She leveled a steady "pointed look over the glasses" look at a few of the boys around the room. "It will also be noted that boys are still not allowed in the girl's dormitories and you _must_ still be in the Tower by curfew. Additionally, I think you ladies will find that you will no longer be able to get into the boy's dormitory after next Wednesday. There will be no exceptions made. Should you choose to consummate your union that is up to _both_ parties and your _parents_. Madam Pomfrey will be holding a sexual education seminar next Monday in place of your first period class that _all_ fifth through seventh year students are required to attend."

Harry winced. Sure, getting away from Snape for a day would be wonderful, but he knew he'd just have to go in after classes and make up the lesson. Snape wasn't likely to let them out of their lessons for something like sex-ed.

"This will be a very different, very interesting, and likely very dramatic year for all of you. It is our hope that it is also an enjoyable year. But let me warn you all; despite all of these changes, you will still be expected to follow every rule, there will still be consequences for breaking them, and furthermore, you will _not_ be given special treatment, such as being allowed to leave campus on "dates" except for planned Hogsmeade trips. You will also still not be allowed to rent out rooms in Hogsmeade, even for the day." She repeated the last statement again, locking onto a select few as though to drill it into their heads.

"Jeeze," Ron whispered "we may be _allowed_ to have sex, but they sure don't make it easy."

"Mr. Weasley, do you have something to say?" Ron blushed crimson and quickly shook his head. McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "But you do bring up an interesting point. We cannot bar you from having sexual intercourse with your spouse if you so choose. But we also cannot have half the female upperclassmen pregnant by the end of the year. We realize there will be pregnancies, and we can't help that. _But_ having a child while you're still in school is not only extremely difficult on you, it is also difficult on your child and the rest of the school. We are no longer in a time when young ladies are expected to get through third year at best and then retire to a life of homemaking. If that is your wish, so be it, but we want every single student to successfully graduate and have options open. And of course, I will always be available to you should you require any counseling or assistance. Now, are there any questions?"


	4. TWO

TWO:

"Gather around, gather around. Move up to the front, if you please boys. That's right, fill all the forward seats. Now, I'm sure you all know why you're here. Is there anyone who doesn't? No? Good. Welcome then, to sexual education. I have very little time to teach rather a lot of material, so let's get all the awkwardness out of the way first, shall we? Penis, vagina, rectum, anus, lube, sex, sexual intercourse, oral, condom, and anal," she listed quickly. The large class was so stunned that no one said or did anything. "Go ahead; get all the giggling out of your system. From this point onward, if you crack jokes or giggle inappropriately at anytime in the next hour and a half, I will deduct points from your house. Questions? Good, let's get started."

For the following ninety minutes the large class sat in uncomfortable semi-silence while their nurse went over all ins and outs of sex and everything to do with it. _Every_thing. Including demonstrations with visual aids.

Which Harry would have greatly preferred to being in Potions class that morning. Apparently, among many other things, Severus Snape was a registered mediwizard and considered something of an authority on sexual education. And while he couldn't be convinced to teach the entire sexual education class, he had no problems teaching his three NEWT students after classes, when it wouldn't be interrupting his lesson.

"This really sucks, Harry. Sorry. Not that you missed a whole lot in Pomfrey's class." His cheeks flushed a dusty pink. "It was pretty embarrassing and all. She even passed out…" he coughed, reached into his bag and pulled out a little packet, passing it underhandedly to his best friend.

"Condoms?"

"Shhhh!" Ron hissed, looking around the library as though they were dealing in illegal drugs.

Harry laughed and handed it back to him. "It's not that big of a deal, Ron."

"Yes it is! Have _you_ ever used one?"

"Well, no. But it's _not_ that big of deal. It's just a little piece of latex."

Ron shoved the packet back into his bag and looked up at Harry, his brow furrowed. "What's latex?"

"Uh… it's the material most condoms are made of," Harry said with a shrug.

"Not wizarding condoms, actually," Hermione interrupted, seemingly appearing out of thin air. She took out one of her own little packets and handed it to him for closer inspection. There was a wand on the front that went from pointing down to the left bottom corner to pointing up to the upper left hand corner, where it proceeded to shoot bright multi-colored sparkles. Harry laughed, watching as the wand completed the process again.

"Oh, that's hilarious!" he declared, handing it back. Hermione rolled her eyes, took the little packet, turned it over and handed it back.

"One hundred percent CharmWeave?" Harry asked, looking up.

"Unlike muggle condoms, it, apparently has a hundred percent protection rating against pregnancy _and_ most STDs. Pretty amazing, huh?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess so. But, it's just a condom."

Hermione laughed. "You don't think wizards have designed it to be just practical, do you?" Her eyes glittered wickedly and Harry snorted.

"My, my, Granger. And here I've always thought you were a prude."

Hermione whirled angrily to face Draco, who was smirking. "Bugger _off_, Malfoy!" she hissed before Ron could even get his mouth open. He was fuming and red-faced and seemed to be having some difficulty deciding what he wanted to say.

"But you _are_ correct," he purred, lowering his chin so his fringe just covered his eyes. She blinked in shock. "They are designed to be a little more than _practical_." He winked suggestively at her and she, uncontrollably, blushed. Draco chuckled quietly and turned his attention to Harry.

"Ready, Potter?"

"For?"

"A wonderful session on things sexual and pleasurable with our resident expert?" Ron choked and worked his mouth uselessly.

Harry sighed. "I guess so."

"H-Harry!"

Harry rolled his eyes and set his hands on Ron's shoulders. "Ron! Snape, sex-ed, remember?" Ron calmed abruptly and then blushed. He looked up at Harry sheepishly.

"Sorry, mate. Forgot."

"It's okay. But I have to go. I will see you two later, okay?" He closed his books, blew across his latest sheet of notes and tucked them all into his bag before rising and following Malfoy out of the library.

xXx

"Taking into consideration that none of us want to be here, we'll make this quick. I will not treat you like innocent, naive flowers, and you, in turn, will not treat me like I don't know what young boys do when they think no one is looking. Agreed? Sit." Snape gestured to the front seats and continued setting items on his desk.

Harry's brow furrowed. It didn't seem right that Snape should be so... professional about it. It seemed like he should be sneering and making snide comments. It also seemed like Malfoy and Zabini should be snickering and making jokes. But that's not what was happened.

xXx

The day of The Sorting, which had gained capitals somewhere in the week, dawned murky and wet. Harry stared out the window for a moment and sighed.

"Well, that isn't the best of omens," he muttered.

"You coming to the Sorting, Harry?" Neville asked, pulling his socks on and carefully arranging them so the yellow wedges fit neatly over his heel and toe. Harry nodded, grabbing his tie off his bedpost and yawning.

"Thought I'd come and cheer you guys on," he said with a smile, as though it were a game when he knew damn well that it wasn't. As Ron had predicted, most of those eligible to participate had agreed to it, and most who hadn't were Muggleborn, though two seventh years from Ravenclaw had declined since they were already engaged.

"Still just can't wrap your mind around it, can you?"

"Hermione! What are you _doing_ in here?!" Ron cried, ducking behind his bed to hide his bare chest.

Hermione laughed. "Honestly, Ron, it's not like I've never seen a boy without his shirt on before," she chided.

"When?!" Ron demanded. Hermione laughed at him again and he went red-faced.

"But really, Hermione, what _are_ you doing here?" Harry asked.

"I'm just taking advantage of the last few hours I'm allowed up here," she said with an easy grin, reaching forward and adjusting Harry's tie so it fit neatly in the opening of his collar.

"Well, get out!" Ron shouted, poking his head up over the mattress and giving her a steady glare. His mouth fell open as Seamus walked into the room with only a towel around his waist and another on his shoulders.

"Good morning, 'Mione," he greeted, patting her fondly on the rear. She jumped, whirled and glared at him, her hands unconsciously covering her backside.

"You!" she snapped accusingly, but seemed to run out of steam and merely glared at him. He winked back and reached down to loosen his towel, seemingly unconcerned that she was even in the room. Hermione blushed bright red and beat a hasty retreat, much to the boys' amusement.

"How do you _do_ that?" Ron asked, finally emerging from behind the bed. Seamus looked up questioningly, unconcerned with his nudity or his audience.

"What?"

"Be so... comfortable with girls."

Seamus laughed easily. Sometime during the summer between his fifth and sixth years his voice had settled into an unexpected baritone and he'd lost his baby fat, growing into a mature, toned figure. He seemed to have also developed an easy way with women that left most of his classmates in stunned awe.

"I don't like 'em," he answered easily.

"You don't... huh?" Ron, blinking in confusion, began to button himself up crooked. Seamus laughed again and leaned across the other boy's bed to straighten the buttons.

"I don't like girls," he clarified, re-buttoning the second button and patting him on the chest. Ron blinked at him, slack-jawed.

"You... you're gay?!" Everyone, including Neville burst into laughter and Ron merely stared at them in confusion.

"Yeah, mate. And you're about the only one who hasn't noticed, I'd wager."

"You're... bullshit! You're kidding. There's no way! Half the girls in this school are head-over-heels for you!"

"Yeah, well, forbidden fruit and all. You know, you always want you can't have, that sort of thing. Your tie's on backwards." Ron, who never _un_tied his tie, looked down to see that he had, indeed, slipped it over his head upside down and quickly worked it off before flipping it over and pulling it down again.

"But... since when?"

"Since always. You really hadn't noticed?"

Ron shook his head numbly and Harry came over to pat him on the shoulder.

"It's alright, Ron," he said, "It's not your fault you're the most unobservant person on the face of the planet." Ron pushed him away and hit him across the bicep, glaring hotly at his best friend while Harry laughed.

xXx

"Well... this is it, then, huh?" Harry asked, shifting uncomfortably. Everyone had been trying oh so very hard to pretend it was a normal day, when it was anything but. For the first time, the enormity of the entire situation seemed to have impacted the mass of fifth, sixth and seventh years standing nervously in the much too large Great Hall, and they were all quiet and sporting vaguely horrified expressions. Two hours ago The Sorting seemed like a romantic and wonderful thing, but it very suddenly had become a very real and very serious thing.

McGonagall stepped forward, her list held in front of her like a shield. Harry got the immediate impression that he was back in the first year and for a second expected the tables to be filled with students. The room was remarkably bare, he realized, without the lower classmen. He looked around curiously, studying the faces of his fellow classmates. Most of the upperclassmen were present, even those, like himself, who were not participating. Morbid curiosity, he supposed. But the Great Hall had been barred to all those under fifth year. Harry guessed there was a reason, but none had been forthcoming.

Clearing her throat, McGonagall called, "Adams, Chance." There was silence and stillness for several minutes while Chance Adams garnered his courage and slowly stood. His fellow Ravenclaw fifth years patted him encouragingly on the back and smiled and stared at him with a curious mixture of envy and pity. Because he was first and they weren't, and most were simultaneously grateful and envious of that fact. Chance approached the stool slowly, eyeing it with a suspicion most reserved for Hagrid's "pets."

"A silencing ward has been placed around this area," McGonagall explained. "The Hat's decision is private and you needn't tell anyone but your chosen partner." He nodded slowly, his slack expression speaking volumes for his attention level. The silencing ward rippled slightly as he stepped past its barrier and sat on the stool. McGonagall lowered the Hat to his head and he actually winced as it touched. When he emerged moments later, the hall held its breath. Because he was first, somehow he needed to be okay for the rest of them to be okay. Maybe he understood that, because he tossed a cheeky wink and thumbs-up to his fellow classmates. A sigh ran down the length of the tables and smiles and chattering broke out among the gathered students as he went back to his table.

With the preverbal ice broken, the process continued much more smoothly. Until of course, McGonagall glanced up at the Gryffindor table and called, "Potter, Harry."

Harry looked around curiously. "Harry" was not an uncommon name, and neither, for that matter was "Potter," but he was unaware that there was another "Harry Potter" in his house. When no one stood and he realized that all eyes were glued to him, dread uncoiled slow and cold in his gut. He frowned and looked up at McGonagall, pointing to himself curiously. She glared at him impatiently and nodded, her eyebrows raised and lips pursed.

"I thought you weren't doing it, Harry," Ron said, a slightly hurt tone in his voice.

"So did I," Harry said, slowly standing and approaching the dais. "I think there's a mistake, Professor. I'm not participating."

"According to this you are..." With a flick of her wand she pulled up a contract. To Harry's astonishment, _Vernon Dursley_ was scrawled across the bottom in his uncle's very "normal" handwriting. He gaped at it until it disappeared with a _poof!_

"I don't want to, though."

"You don't have a choice, Mr. Potter. Please take a seat."

"But..."

"You do not get preferential treatment in this matter, Mr. Potter. If you had come to me earlier we may have been able to speak to your guardian, but it's far too late now." She gave him a small, impatient nudge and Harry slowly sat on the small stool. It rocked forward and slightly to the left on the leg was just a tiny bit shorter than the others. He tucked his feet up on the rung and clutched the seat as the Hat came down.

"Ah, Mr. Potter... hm, you always were a difficult one, weren't you?" Heart beating furiously in his chest, Harry clenched his eyes and waited helplessly for the Hat's judgment. "Ah...what's this? Why of course! Amazing that I didn't see it before! You two will be quite good together. You'll do many great things!"

"Uh... who?" Harry found himself hoping it was Ron or Hermione or even Neville... someone he could get along with, anyone he could at least _stand_.

"Why, Severus Snape, of course." For several terrifying seconds, Harry swore that he was going to pass out from sheer shock.

"Who?"

"Don't be asinine, boy. You'll have to inform him within the next twenty-four hours, or the Ministry will do it for you, since I doubt _I'll_ be seeing him."

"But..."

"Go on, now. And don't worry; everything will be fine." He got the impression that the Hat was smiling at him, and had it had hands would have patted him on the shoulder and pushed him off the stool. Shaking, he took the Hat off and gently set it down on the stool. Harry stared at it for a second, and for just a moment considered picking it up and putting it back on. Surely, he could reason with it. Hadn't he convinced the Hat not to put him in Slytherin? But even as he reached for it, McGonagall was already pulling him out of the silencing ward.

"Are you alright, Potter?" He shook his head, unable to even look at her. "May I inquire as to the results?" He shook his head again, staring listlessly at a point above and beyond her left ear.

"You don't want to know," he whispered.

"Mr. Potter." She caught him by the shoulder and forced him to look at her. "Who is it?" His shoulder's fell under her intense gaze and he closed his eyes.

"Snape," he managed finally, unable to force himself to pronounce the man's first name. Her hands tightened on his shoulders and then she was straightening up.

"You'd do best to tell him yourself," she said, keeping her own voice neutral. He shook his head, almost wildly. "Trust me, Potter. You'd do best to tell him yourself." Harry nodded miserably. He supposed it would be worse if Snape found out from someone else. For a moment he imagined Snape finding out at breakfast and dragging him away from the table. At least if they spoke in private they could keep the whole horrid affair to themselves. For a while at least.

"Do it now, before you've had too much time to think about it," McGonagall suggested gently, leading him off towards the side door Snape usually appeared and disappeared through. Forcing himself to look at her, she gave him short, concise directions to his least favorite professor's private rooms.

Nodding, though not entirely sure he would be able to remember them, he walked numbly out of the hall and into the narrow corridor.


	5. TWO b

xXx

If he'd really thought about it, he would have expected a portrait. Or a statue. Or a concealed passage. Oddly enough, it was just a door; a plain, unremarkable wooden door flanked by plain, unremarkable blank wall. But then, if he'd thought about it, he would have realized that Severus Snape didn't _need_ to discourage people from visiting his rooms with portraits and tricky charms.

Nearly fifteen minutes passed before Harry realized that he'd been just standing outside the door as though analyzing the grain of the pale wood. A strange sort of numbness had settled over his head and he had the oddest sensation of floating in murky water. Therefore, when he raised his fist to knock on the door, his arm moved ponderously slow and the sound of his knuckles against the wood was dim and muddled. He waited for what may have been seconds or minutes or hours before the door slowly creaked open, spilling a pale glow into the dank hall.

"I was wondering how long you were going to stare at my door," came a low drawl from within the room. Harry looked up, expecting to see his tall professor directly in front of him, but Snape was seated comfortably in a chair by the fire.

"Since someone obviously thought it necessary to give you directions to my private quarters, come in. And shut the door." His feet seemed to stick to the floor, his knees locked into place and he could do nothing but stare wide-eyed at his professor.

"Potter!" Harry jumped. "In! Now!" The command unstuck his feet and his knees unlocked so abruptly that he was sent staggering into the warm room. A flick of Snape's fingers sent the door slamming shut.

"What is it?"

"What… what is what?"

"What is-?" Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his jaw. "There is a _reason_ you've ventured into the heart of Slytherin territory and knocked on _my_ door, is there not?"

"Uh… yes," Harry offered.

"And that reason _is_?"

"I… I just came from the Sorting," Harry managed finally, desperately hoping Snape would take the hint and he wouldn't have to say it. But then, the gods had always been particularly cruel to him.

"Already having marital problems, Potter?" Snape asked caustically.

Harry chuckled nervously. "I guess you could say that…"

"Potter…" Snape took a deep breath and pulled his lips in between his teeth in a typical annoyed tick. "Why in Merlin's name are you here?"

"Well… the Hat… McGonagall…"

"The Hat paired you with Professor McGonagall?" Snape suggested dryly. Harry forcibly suppressed a shudder. But then… would it have been any worse?

"The Hat… paired… us." Harry shut his eyes and waited for the outburst. When it didn't come, he opened one eye slowly. It was only then that he realized the world was spinning.

"Who put you up to it? Hm? Was it a dare? I must say; if this is the 'Seventh Year Prank' it's rather deplorable."

"What… ? No!"

"Don't try to tell me that you've come up with this rather transparent ploy on your own," Snape drawled condescendingly, picking his book up off his lap and carelessly flipping the page over, seeming to have dismissed Harry all together.

"This isn't… Sir, it's not a _joke_!" In his mind Harry was screaming in terror. What sort of joke would this be? If it was a joke at all, it was on _him_, not Snape.

"You're not even participating, Potter," Snape reminded him, not looking up.

"That's what I thought, but-"

"Out, Potter."

"Sir-"

"Get _out_ right _now_, Potter!" Harry hesitated, his breath coming in harsh pants. Snape set his book down sharply and gave Harry a furious glare that made the boy jump. He fled, slamming the door behind him.

xXx

In a rare fit of rage, Snape stood and tossed his book –a rather rare edition of a theology book he'd searched for months to find- onto the couch, where it bounced once and landed on its spine, opening to a random page. Breathing roughly through his nose, he picked the book up, and carefully checked the spine to make sure none of the pages had come lose. Controlling himself, he set the book on the coffee table and straightened his robes.

It was more than likely a very large and ill-orchestrated prank, and he knew _he_ hadn't submitted for Sorting… He shook his head sharply, unconsciously pulling on his hair. Could Potter have been telling the truth? Clearing his throat, he left his room and set out purposefully for the Headmaster's office.

He was already seated in one of the Headmaster's horrid neon green armchairs by the time the other man arrived, the Sorting Hat lopsided atop his own. Snape's left eye twitched ever so slightly as he was immediately reminded of Dobby and his numerous knitted hats.

"Ah! Severus! What can I do for you this evening?" Severus cleared his throat again.

"Did Mr. Potter participate in the Sorting, Headmaster?"

"Why yes, he did. His guardian signed and returned the forms at the beginning of the summer. One of the first ones in, actually. Why?" A headache blossomed brilliantly behind Severus' right eye and he sighed.

"May I speak with the Hat?" he asked finally. Dumbledore tipped his head sideways and slowly took the Hat off his own atrocious purple abomination and set it on his desk.

"May I ask why? You do know that Sortings are confidential, yes?" Severus made a trademark annoyed dismissive gesture and stood, taking the Hat without preamble and setting it none too gently on his head.

"Ah! Severus Snape! And here I was sure I'd never see _you_ again! What can I do for you?"

"Don't be stupid. Potter. With whom did you pair him?"

"Now, normally I wouldn't say. They are confidential after all… but, all things considered I don't think I would be breaking confidentiality if I told you… Hm…. I suppose he's already told you himself…"

Severus' heart dropped through his stomach and his breath caught in his throat. "Certainly you don't…"

"He's been paired with you, of course."

Taking three deep breaths through his nose, Severus calmed his initial impulse to shout. "Then _obviously_ you are _mistaken_. I did not agree to participate in this Sorting."

"Ah… yes, well about that. Perhaps you should talk to the Headmaster?" Seething, Severus forced himself to take the Hat off slowly and replace it on the Headmaster's desk.

"Something you wanted to tell me?" he asked tightly. Albus gave him an almost-but-not-quite innocent look and Severus nearly snapped.

"What would that be?"

"That I have somehow unwittingly given consent for this Sorting?"

"Of course you haven't, dear boy. You were entered into the pool when you first started school. You've simply never been removed from the pool. Let me see…. Hm, yes I guess yours was the last mandatory year… imagine that?"

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?!"

"Every student that passed through Hogwarts' House Sorting in your year and before were automatically entered into the Sorting pool. It was the summer after your first year that the practice was taken out."

"And… _when_ were you going to tell me this?"

"I hadn't thought it necessary. To be honest, it had entirely escaped me; after all, just about everyone else in your year is married or otherwise unacceptable. I apologize. Is there something wrong?" the Headmaster asked innocently.

"Is there something-!?" Severus glared and clenched his jaw. The man would find out eventually, if he didn't already know –which was more than likely considering that the damnable boy had found his way to his quarters.

"It would appear that your _Golden Boy_ and I have been bound," he gritted out, the humiliation and indignity of it almost overwhelming.

"Well, congratulations!"

"Con-Con….?" He seemed to be repeating other people a lot lately. Severus took a precious second to gather himself, forcing himself to count slowly to ten. "How, exactly, am I supposed to continue my work for the Order _bound_ to _Potter_?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Well it shouldn't be too hard. Quite fortuitous, actually," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, lowering himself into his chair and pulling out a bowl of biscuits, which he offered to Severus, who shook his head incredulously.

"Are you _mad_?! He'll never trust me again!"

"Now, don't be too hasty. Being bound to Harry actually puts you in a rather good position, don't you think?"

"_No!"_

"Has he not recently shown interest in recruiting Harry to his side? Tell him that you'll put all your efforts into swaying him."

"And in the meantime? I would be useless to the Order among His ranks while I'm tied to the Potter boy," Severus pointed out, his shoulders beginning to cramp from the tension.

"Not necessarily. It may even serve to catapult you into his elite inner circle. After all, you would have almost exclusive access to Harry and from there, the Order."

"Don't. Don't do this to me Albus! For Merlin's sake don't ask me to play the double spy again!"

"The benefit-"

"Shove your bloody benefits, you mad old codger!" Severus snapped, crossing his arms over his chest in a manner that was probably very childish, but he was too upset to care.

"This war is coming to a head, Severus, and we _need_ you," Dumbledore said gently, his eyes twinkling sadly as though to say _I wish it weren't so_, and it was those _eyes_ that got _every_one, _every_ time. "But of course, I can't force you to do anything." Feeling very much as though he were about to scream, Severus forced himself to sit down and contemplate the situation. The Sorting, as he was unfortunately quite well aware, was binding, and furthermore Old Magic. Not even Malfoy could weasel out of something of this nature. As for the rest of it... was there any choice? Severus drew himself upright and set his expression.

"I will draw up the contract tonight and present it to him tomorrow afternoon. You may be required to mediate on his behalf."

"Of course; I would be honored." Severus nodded jerkily and rose, walking quickly out of the room before he could be called back, before those _eyes_ could coerce him into anything more. Once the door was closed behind him, he leaned against the wall and took several deep breaths, surprised to find himself near hysteric and his chest catching as though he were going to hyperventilate... or cry.

Despite everything, he was still surprised to find none other than the source of his misery waiting at the base of the stairs. He forced himself to look composed, glared at him over his nose, turning his head ever so slightly so his hair cast a shadow over his eyes.

"Professor Snape, sir!"

"Not now, Potter."

"But, sir-!"

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," Snape said sharply.

"Sir, I just wanted-"

Growling, Snape whirled and pinned the boy with a furious glare. "I will talk to you tomorrow," he hissed, hysteria just barely grazing the surface of his voice. Harry gave him a slow nod, his eyes almost impossibly large.

"Put your eyes back into your head!" Snape snapped over one shoulder as he swept toward the dungeons and the relative safety of his quarters.

Harry watched his retreating back with wide, shocked eyes.


	6. THREE

THREE:

It was late by the time Harry made it back to the Tower. A crowd of loud, celebrating Gryffindors met him in the common room and he just barely resisted the urge to glare at them. How could they be so damn happy? But for once, their own lives were plenty interesting enough that they didn't need any entertainment from him and he was able to sneak through the room unnoticed. He didn't want to see _any_one.

Apparently, neither did Ron, as the boy was curled up on his bed when Harry made it to the room.

"Ron?" he asked, almost reluctantly. He didn't really want to see Ron either, but he felt obligated to at least see if he was okay.

"Hey, Harry," Ron replied miserably, but didn't roll over to look at him.

"You want to tell me about it?" Harry asked, sitting on Ron's bed. He very nearly sighed in relief when Ron shook his head. If Ron told him about his Sorting, he may have to divulge the results of his own Sorting. He patted his friend's shoulder awkwardly, and stood.

"Harry? Could…" Ron rolled over slowly. In the pale light cast by the full moon, Harry could barely make out the tear-streaks on his friend's face. "Could you sleep with me tonight?" he nearly whispered. Harry nodded slowly and quickly got ready for bed. Ron pulled back the blankets and he slid into his friend's familiar arms.

"Harry…?" Harry turned his head so he was looking at him. "I'm scared," Ron confessed finally, a fine shudder passing through his body and up Harry's through the places they touched. Harry rolled on his side and pulled Ron against his chest, gently rubbing tiny circles on the small of his back.

"It'll be okay," he whispered. _Would it…?_

"Well, who didn't see that coming?"

Harry woke gradually to snickering and realized, slowly, that he was in Ron's bed, with Ron's head on his shoulder, and Ron's fist in his pajama bottoms, and his hand on Ron's hip. Furthermore, just about every boy in Gryffindor was standing around the bed. He shook Ron awake and sat up.

"What is it?" Ron asked sleepily, blinking blurrily up at the assembled boys. They were laughing now, no longer trying to stifle their giggles. "What are you all _laughing_ about?!" Ron demanded, sitting up and roughly straightening his pajama top, which had bunched up while he slept.

"Well, Ronny-boy, I guess you'll get to be as good with girls as me now. Kinda ironic really," Seamus mused, sitting on the bed and giving him a wink.

"What are you _blathering_ about?!"

"Well… you get paired with Potter, and I get Hermione. I think that's pretty ironic."

"You _what?!_" Ron couldn't help but hiss.

Seamus held up his hands. "Hey, it wasn't my doing! You wanna trade?" he asked, giving Harry a wink and eyeing his exposed chest. Harry felt a fine blush spread over aforementioned chest and quickly pulled his pajama top down to cover his chest and stomach, causing more laughter.

"Move!" Ron snapped roughly. "And all the rest of you, get out! Out!" Laughing good naturedly, the Gryffindors ushered each other out of the seventh year dorm room. Fuming, Ron tossed himself out of the bed and began to get ready.

"What's got your knickers in such a twist?" Dean asked finally. Ron rounded on him with a red-faced, heaving glare and Dean backed up.

"It's none of your sodding business!" he snapped, gathering his clothing and stomping out of the room. Silence followed in his wake for several uncomfortable seconds.

"Whoa…" Neville offered finally.

"Yeah, what's his problem anyways? He got the bloke everyone was hoping for!"

Harry blushed again and climbed out of the bed. "You've all got it wrong," Harry said quietly, pulling out his own clothes and starting to get dressed.

"Huh?" Harry gave them a slow smile, not yet willing to talk about his Sorting, and not even willing to contemplate who Ron ended up with that would have upset him _that_ badly, though having Hermione rubbed in his face this early in the morning probably hadn't helped matters.

"So, who'd you all get Sorted with?" he asked, hoping to take the attention off him, at least long enough for him to get dressed and escape.

"Well you already know mine. Ron shoulda stuck around a little longer to hear Dean's though. That would have gotten him in a right proper mood," Seamus said, barely stifling laughter.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked suspiciously, looking to a heavily blushing Dean. "Well?" Dean cleared his throat.

"Uh… Ginny…"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Proper mood? Are you kidding?! He would have killed you! How's Ginny taking it?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh, she's taking it okay," Dean said, ducking his head and pointedly looking at the floor.

"She was taking it better than okay last time I checked!" Seamus teased, making Dean blush even redder.

"Oh, Merlin Dean, please tell me you didn't…?"

"No! Dear Merlin, no! I'm not _that_ suicidal!" Dean squeaked, obviously imagining the reaction of the Weasley boys if they were to discover that he had sullied their sister's purity. He shuddered. Harry nodded slowly.

"I don't envy you. Ginny's a great girl and all… but you've got a lot of brothers to deal with."

Dean nodded, almost miserably, but smiled. "I'll be okay," he said finally, tossing Harry a lopsided grin.

"What about you, Neville?" When the other boy said nothing, Harry turned away from his mirror and looked at him curiously. Neville was blushing and looking at his bedspread helplessly, as though it would provide him with some inspiration. Or escape.

"Just tell him, you prat!" Seamus said finally, tossing his nightshirt at the floundering boy.

"Don't be mad at me, Harry," Neville pleaded miserably.

Harry quirked an eyebrow and tried to think of who Neville could have been paired with that would make him angry. He came up with a blank. "Why would I be mad?"

Neville bit his lip, significantly marring the remarkably mature face he'd unexpectedly grown into over the summer. "Cho," he whispered.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Congratulations, mate! She's great." Harry offered him a smile and Neville gaped at him. Harry had gotten over his crush on Cho pretty quickly. She was pretty, but all he could ever think about when he saw or thought about her was Cedric Diggory's body under his, cold and heavy. A fine shudder ran up his spine and he turned away to finish getting dressed.

"So what about you, Harry?"

"Hm?"

"If you didn't get paired with Ron, then who?"

"Oh… Uh, I'll tell you later, I gotta go." Thankfully, he was already fully dressed and was easily able to grab his bag and escape the room.

xXx

"Hey, did you hear about Malfoy?" Harry slowed habitually, the name automatically catching his attention. He found himself subtly eavesdropping on a pair of Hufflepuff fourth year girls.

"No, what happened?"

"He wasn't at the Sorting last night. Had an accident at Quidditch practice and spent the night in the infirmary. Who doya' think he got paired with?" Harry's brow furrowed; Malfoy had to have been there… but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't pay enough attention to Malfoy lately to have looked for him.

"Wouldn't it be funny if he and Harry Potter got paired?" They descended into fits of giggles and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Naaa, I heard that Potter and Weasley got paired," one whispered conspiratorially. The other covered her mouth to stifle her giggles.

"Really? Oh, they make such a cute pair!" Deciding quickly that he'd well and truly exhausted this tiny drip of information, Harry walked abruptly around them. From behind him he heard a gasp and then silence.

_Serves you right,_ Harry thought, rolling his eyes and lengthening his step.

When he reached the Great Hall, Ron was sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table and had managed to completely isolate himself from everyone around him. Maybe it was the sour expression on his face, or maybe it was the rather aggressive manner in which he was attacking his potatoes. Harry winced as one little cube flew across the table and landed in Ginny's lap.

"Hey, Ron." Ron looked up at him with a vicious glare that nearly made him apologize for whatever he'd done, before he realized that he had just as good a reason to be upset as Ron, probably even a better one, and he didn't deserve the hostility.

"Don't take it out on me, whatever the hell it is!"

"Trouble in paradise already, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to face Draco. The boy was –infuriatingly- two and half inches taller than he was and took every opportunity to get as close to Harry as possible in order to point it out.

"Stuff it, Malfoy," he snapped, raising his chin slightly to make up for the height difference.

"Yeah, stuff it!" Ron nearly shouted, suddenly exploding out of his chair and getting between Harry and his nemesis. Ron had an inch or so on Malfoy, and like the other boy, took every opportunity to point out the difference.

"What's your problem this morning, weasel?"

"None of your damn business, ferret-boy!"

As luck would have it, the morning post arrived at that very moment, and before anyone had even registered that a Ministry owl was descending on them, it had dropped its package in front of one blonde Slytherin, who caught it automatically. And furthermore, as fate tended to at least have a mild, if not wicked, sense of humor, the ministry sent singing announcements.

"Greetings, Mr. Draco Malfoy!" it howled, exploding into multicolored confetti, which quickly arranged itself in the word "Congratulations!"

"OH!! On this special day, we at the Ministry would like to say!! Congrats! Huzzah! Huzzah! Hoorary for Draco and Ronald!!"

The whole hall watched in stunned silence as the confetti rearranged itself so it read, "Congrats to Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley on your recent Sorting!" and began to flash neon green and white. Harry's eyes widened and suddenly imagined a similar letter landing on Snape's lap and exploding over the head table. He looked up at McGonagall in horror and she raised an eyebrow at him. He mouthed a helpless 'thank you' and then, quite abruptly, it hit him.

"You got Sorted to Malfoy?" he asked, eyes widening further yet. Ron glared at him hotly and stalked out of the room, leaving a stunned Draco Malfoy in his wake, a formal announcement clutched between his hands. Ignoring the rest of the hall, which had broke out into laughter and chatter, Draco turned elegantly on one heel and walked back out the door.

xXx

The world, Harry supposed, sitting in Potions and staring numbly at the board, was not exactly unfair, but had a very strange sense of humor… and was, perhaps, a bit unfair, he amended ruefully.

"Potter!" Harry jumped. "Are you having problems with directions, today?" Harry shook his head, refusing to turn and look at the other man. "Stay after class. And Mr. Malfoy, please watch what you're doing!" And just like that, for the first time in six years of combined Potions classes, Draco Malfoy was not only chastised, but appeared to be actually in the wrong, and furthermore made no attempt to defend himself.

Class passed with agonizing slowness, but then all too soon Draco and Blaise were leaving and Harry was left alone at his station, staring miserably at the table.

"Stop pouting," Snape growled, appearing behind him suddenly. Harry jumped and tipped his head back so he could glare at his professor.

"And five points from Gryffindor for insolence! Follow me!" Resisting the urge to hiss, Harry picked up his bag and reluctantly followed Snape out of the room and down the hall. To his profound relief, they did not end up at the plain wooden door with the plain stone walls on either side, but at a similar wooden door with similar stone walls that opened to, not Snape's rooms, but his office.

"Sit," Snape commanded, walking past the familiar chairs to sit behind his desk. Trying very hard not to look at the strange objects on the bookshelf or the strange objects on his desk or the odd trinkets on the mantle, or _him_, Harry lowered himself to a chair and, in lieu of things to stare at, watched his hands tremble. Therefore, he was quite startled when a thick roll of parchment landed sharply in front of him. Emitting a rather embarrassing noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeak, he looked up at Snape questioningly, his cheeks burning bright red. Snape rolled his eyes and sighed.

"This is our contract. Read it _thoroughly_, and keep track of your questions. We'll meet again in the Headmaster's office after dinner tomorrow. _Don't_ lose it; and if you desire the particulars of our… _union_ to stay out of the _Prophet_, you'll guard it jealously." Harry nodded slowly, swallowing hard. A small shudder ran down his spine when he imagined opening the morning's _Prophet_ and finding the "particulars" of his nightmare splashed out on the front page. When Snape said nothing more after several seconds, Harry looked up at him cautiously. The professor was ignoring him completely in favor of marking papers.

"Why are you still here, Potter?" he asked finally, still not looking up.

"I…"

"Unless you have something intelligent and productive to say, kindly show yourself the door."

Harry rolled his eyes and got up, stalking out of the room angrily. _You'd think I_ planned_ this,_ he thought to himself, opening the door roughly.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter."

"What?! Why?"

"Temper tantrum," Snape said evenly, lightly dusting sand over a page and blowing across it. Harry bit his tongue and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh, Harry there you are. Where have you been?" Hermione asked as soon as he stepped through the doorway.

"Uh… had to stay after class a bit."

"Oh. Is Snape being too horrid to you?"

Harry winced and shook his head. "How's your day been?" he asked in an attempt to get the subject away from Snape.

Hermione blushed. "Oh, I talked to my mum and dad today. Introduced them to Seamus and all…"

Harry's offered her a smile."Congratulations, by the way."

Hermione blushed again. "Thanks."

"How's he been about it?"

She shrugged. "Well, he still doesn't like girls, or so he says, but," she shrugged again, "he's stuck with me until he turns twenty-one, I guess."

"Stuck? Anyone would be happy to be with you, Hermione," Harry said soothingly, gently setting his bag down and falling onto the couch.

"Except him, of course," she muttered.

"Hmm?"

"I think he just needs some time to get used to it, you know? But at least neither of us need to be contracted. Poor Ron. His mum and dad are coming Saturday to meet with the Malfoys and they're going to draw up a contract." Harry winced, thinking of his own contract.

"Speaking of Sortings, who did you get paired with anyways?"

"Uh… can we talk later, Hermione? I've got a lot of work to do, and I'm kind of tired."

"Oh… sure, I guess. Tell Ron to cheer up- he's been sulking in his room all day."

Harry nodded and gave her a fond squeeze on the shoulder. "I'll talk to Seamus too."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"Hey, I've got to do all the big brother threatening and whatnot, right?"

Hermione rolled her eyes but she was smiling."First of all, you're not my brother, and second of all, you're not all that big," she teased.

Harry feigned a hurt look and hit himself in the chest and then stumbled backwards, clutching dramatically at the perceived wound. "Right through the heart, Hermione! Oh, you're cold!" She laughed and he smiled and then straightened up and gave her a wave as he started up the stairs.

Hermione's eyebrows drew together as she watched him walk up the stairs. _Who could he have been paired with? Couldn't have been worse than Malfoy…_ she thought quietly, trying to work out whose pairings she didn't know off hand. _Maybe a graduate? I suppose he wouldn't be able to say anything if his partner hadn't been Sorted yet. _And then a thought hit her and she giggled despite herself, holding a hand over her mouth. _What if he got paired with one of the Weasley brothers? Oh, poor Harry. Molly will smother him._

xXx

"Alright, Harry, I trust you've had time to look over the contract?" Dumbledore asked, looking up at Harry over his glasses, the contract held loosely between his hands. Harry rolled his eyes and loosed a heavy sigh, leaning back into his chair and ignoring Professor Snape who was sitting moodily next to him.

"Yeah, I did," he muttered.

"And? Do you have any questions or concerns?" Dumbledore asked reasonably. Harry stared at him in open-mouth shock. _Did he have any questions or concerns?!_

"Uh… _yeah_…"

"And they are?"

"What do you mean, "and they are"?! Everything! The whole damn thing is 241 clauses of _bullshit_!"

"You impudent, little-!"

"Severus! Harry! Gentlemen! Both of you, calm down! We are not getting anywhere with this petty bickering," Dumbledore said harshly. "Harry, I understand that you're upset. But being unreasonable is not going to help the situation. The same goes for you Severus. Now, Harry, do you have any specific complaints?"

"Merlin… what about clause one?"

Severus rolled his eyes and made an annoyed noise. "If you had _read_ the paragraph _before_ clause one, you would realize that clauses one through six are _non-negotiable_," Severus said derisively. Harry glared at him, and opened his mouth to retort, but was stalled by a soft noise from the headmaster.

"Non-negotiable clauses were set down by Severus' father. As most aristocratic families do." Harry shut his mouth with a snap, and unbidden, thought _Poor Ron…_

"Anything else?" Snape sneered.

Harry made a face at him. "Clause twenty-two."

Dumbledore looked down and rifled through the pages until he found the clause. "Ah, yes. I had thought you might object to that one in particular…" Snape rolled his eyes and snatched up his own copy of the contract.

"I see nothing wrong with it," he said stubbornly.

"Nothing wrong with it?! _Post graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Mr. Potter will take up permanent residence at Snape Manor and _will not work?! Are you _mad?!_"

"Snape wives-"

"Wife?!"

"Snape _wives _do not _work!_" Severus continued viciously.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do?!"

"Sit at home and twiddle your thumbs for all I care!"

"Severus-"

"I am _not_ going to become some twittering old fool who sits in a drawing room and does needlepoint and arranges _social functions_!"

"Harry-"

"Then become a twittering old fool who sits and _stares at the walls!_"

"That's _enough!_" Both were shocked into silence and turned to see Dumbledore half out of his chair, his lips oddly pinched. "That's enough, from both of you!" He sat down once he was sure that he had their attention. "Now," he continued more calmly. "Harry, the House of Snape is a very old and respected pureblood family. As unfortunate as it may be, there are certain things that are _expected_ of Snapes. And working is not one of them. You will be well cared for."

"I don't _want_ to be _well cared for_! And what's this nonsense about being a _wife?!_"

"I have bloodrite, and am _titled_!"

"So what!"

"Harry! Stop it this instant! Severus, perhaps, considering the circumstances of your union, you could loosen the clause slightly?" Severus glared at him for several long moments and then pressed his forefingers into his throbbing temples.

"Open contract clause twenty-two for revision," he pushed out through gritted teeth. "Begin clause. Post graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Mr. Potter will take up permanent residence at Snape Manor, and may seek such employment as mutually agreed upon, to be decided upon at a later date. End clause. Acceptable?" he asked stiffly.

"Are you-?"

"Harry," Dumbledore said warningly.

Harry let out his breath in a sigh. "I suppose that's the best I'm going to get."

"Now that that's taken care of. Anything else, Harry?"

"What about clause forty?"

"Hm…. forty, ah. Well… yes, that is quite harsh, Severus."

Snape flipped through the contract and read the clause again. "Certainly you jest? That was for your benefit, you ungrateful-"

"My benefit? How is "The persons of Severus Snape and Harry Potter shall occupy separate wings of the Manor and shall not share a bed" for my _benefit?!_"

"Don't tell me you've been secretly lusting after your greasy old potions master-"

"Severus!"

"Don't make me gag! I would be thrilled except that clause four, which you've already pointed out is _non-negotiable_ states that we must remain _faithful_ to one another!" They glared at each other hotly.

"So sex with me is better than none at all, is that it, Potter?" Snape asked viciously.

Harry's stomach turned and he pulled up his lip distastefully. "Are you trying to turn me into a goddamn _nun_?"

"Mr. Potter! You are still speaking to a professor at this school. Watch your language!"

"Sorry, professor," Harry muttered, though it was obvious he wasn't remorseful in the least.

"Now Severus, you remember what it's like to be seventeen."

"Certainly you're not serious, Albus! You expect me to take this… _boy_ to my bed?!" The look on his face suggested that he'd rather be Kissed. Harry rolled his eyes to hide the slight stab of hurt. Okay, so he'd rather not be in _Snape's_ bed either, but… he was still a virgin for chrissake! _Maybe it _would_ be better to just become a nun_, he thought bitterly.

"No, Severus, I do not. However, very shortly, Harry will no longer be a _boy_, but your _wife_," Dumbledore pointed out reasonably. Harry's cheeks burned at once again being referred to as a 'wife.'

"Can't we just omit the clause? Discus it later… informally?" Harry ventured wearily.

"Omit clause forty and renumber accordingly," Severus snapped finally.

"Thanks," Harry offered, suddenly bone-weary.

"Was there anything else, Harry?"

Harry tipped his head to one side. There _had_ been a lot he had questions on, but most of the clauses were petty and consisted of things like, _in the event of a social function on the second Friday of the months of October, December or May, Mr. Potter shall not wear a flowered hat._

"No," he muttered. A tired apathy had settled on his chest and he found that he didn't really care if he couldn't wear a flowered hat or had to replace his wardrobe four times a year. _It's not like I'm likely to live all that long anyways…_

"Are you quite sure, Harry? Once this contract is signed it is binding, and, as I'm sure you noticed, life long."

"Yeah, I _did_ notice."

"Alright. Why don't you take the contract back to your dorm and look it over one more time. We'll meet again Sunday over lunch. How does that sound?"

"Sure."

"One more thing, Potter." Harry stopped, half way out of his seat and plopped back down, but did not look at his professor. "Are you perchance a virgin?" Harry's cheeks burned and he turned a scandalized look on his professor. Snape smirked. "I had thought so." Harry bristled and stood, turned sharply on one heel and stormed out of the office without so much as a glance at either Snape or Dumbledore.

"Severus," Dumbledore said gently once the door was closed, "you didn't need to be so cruel."

"Cruel? I have no idea what you're talking about." Dumbledore gave him a pointed look over his half-moon glasses and Severus rolled his eyes.

"Don't give me that, Albus. I didn't volunteer for this, and, to be frank, it's a bad situation all around. Potter will be far better off if he doesn't get it into his head that there's somehow going to be a happy ending to all of this. In fact, he's likely to be a widow by the end of the week in any event, as I'm sure the Dark Lord will not take kindly to the whole affair."

"That's a very pessimistic view on things, don't you think?"

"Yes, well, I'm a very pessimistic sort of man," Severus snapped, picking up his copy of the contract and following Harry's lead.

The door once again shut and with the room empty except for Fawkes, Albus sighed. "How unfortunate," he muttered. Fawkes lifted off his perch and landed lightly on his shoulder. Albus ran the back of his fingers down Fawkes' soft feathers and sighed again. "Such a good pairing, and they're making it _so_ difficult. Nonetheless… it is a _very _fortuitous pairing indeed, don't you think, Fawkes?" The phoenix made a chattering noise and knocked his head lightly against the headmaster's.

Albus wordlessly offered him a treat and continued his musings.


	7. FOUR

FOUR:

"There you are, Harry. How did… what's that?"

Harry looked up at Hermione wearily, and suddenly didn't feel like avoiding it anymore. "My contract," he whispered, glad that the common room was empty except for a few couples who seemed to be oblivious to the world.

"Your what?! Come with me." She grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him back out of the commons room. They didn't stop until they'd reached the first empty room on the floor.

"Tell me," she demanded. Harry shook his head, unable to speak. He set the contract down on a nearby table and Hermione snatched it up.

"The prenuptial agreements of one Severus Alexander Snape and Harry James Potter?! Oh, Harry! Why didn't you _tell_ me?!" Harry shrugged.

"I dunno," he offered.

"Have you signed it?!" She asked, frantically flipping through the pages. Harry shook his head, but she didn't look up at him. When she reached the last page and saw that it was still blank she let out a relieved sigh.

"Have you negotiated yet?"

"That's what I was doing," Harry offered, waving vaguely in the general direction of Dumbledore's office.

"You were _what_?! Tell me you had a mediator!"

"Well… Dumbledore was there," Harry offered.

"Okay, good. But, Harry, why didn't you come to me? Snape wrote this whole thing, didn't he?"

"Except the first six."

"Did you write those?"

"No. His father did."

"Lord, Harry! You can't let yourself by walked over on this. This is for… _the rest of your life!_"

"I _know_ that!" Harry snapped irritably. "But it doesn't matter Hermione. I got the ones I really didn't like fixed, and the rest are useless anyways. I don't _care_ if I can't wear flowered hats on this day or purple socks on that day! I don't _care_!"

"Harry, there are _reasons_ for clauses like that! The sole purpose of those arbitrary clauses are so that you have something to _argue;_ it allows you to draw out the negotiations almost as long as you like."

"Really?"

"Yes! The clause says you can't wear purple socks on such and such a day, so you come back and say that you _want_ to wear purple socks on such and such a day, and then Snape has to argue back and after several hours or even days of negotiations, you come to a compromise. And it will still be something stupid like you can wear purple socks on these days, but must wear orange ones on these days, but it still _bought you time_."

Harry gave her a horrified look and said, "I don't want to, Hermione."

"What?"

"I don't _want_ to spend hours or days or weeks or… _years_ discussing whether or not I can wear purple socks! I don't want to spend any more time than necessary on this damn contract. I want to sign it and be done with it!"

"But Harry-!"

"Snape wants nothing more to do with me than I want to do with him! We get separate _wings_ at the Manor and there's only a few times when we're even required to occupy the same _room_. I can live with that. I can't live with the headache and the tedium of _negotiating_ socks and hats and the… lengths of my fingernails!"

"What times?"

"What?"

"In what instances do you have to be together?"

"I… the wedding, two hours on each anniversary… things like that. I've read it all, and it's… not that bad to deal with. I have to spend less time with my _husband_ than I do my professor. I think I can manage it."

"Harry… why didn't you come to me?" she asked again, sounding almost hurt.

Harry shrugged. "You were busy with Seamus and I figured you would be helping Ron with his contract."

"But, Harry…"

"I can take care of it, Hermione. And you know Dumbledore wouldn't let me get taken advantage of."

"I know… but I can't help but feel…"

"Hermione, I'm going to have to be on my own someday. You can't save me forever," Harry reasoned. Stung, Hermione winced, but then nodded. It was true, but she couldn't help but feel like he was putting up a wall between them. Secretly, she'd always feared that if either Ron or Harry woke up one day and figured out that they _were _smart enough to do their own work, they wouldn't need her anymore. It was foolish, but had been a vague concern of hers since second year.

"Alright, Harry. Just... be careful, okay? And make sure you keep this with you; I'm sure the _Prophet_ would love to get their hands on it." Harry nodded and took the contract back. He was actually glad Hermione hadn't asked to read it; he knew if she did, she'd insist that things needed to be changed, and Harry just didn't want to deal with it. Harry stowed the contract securely in his bag and they headed back to the common room.

xXx

Ron sat quietly in his chair. Under the table, his mother clutched his hand in a death-like grip and to his left his father sat stiffly, staring directly at Mr. Malfoy who returned his gaze calmly. Directly across from him sat Draco, looking collected and calm, as though they weren't about to discuss a marriage contract. All of his brothers, except Percy, were on campus, visiting with Charlie and discussing their own Sortings which had taken place the night before. Ron hadn't had a chance to speak to them, and so didn't know the results, but the twins had been suspiciously subdued when he seen them briefly on his way to meet with the Malfoys. Either someone else didn't get a favorable Sorting, or everyone was still upset over Ron's. Not that he would blame them, _he_ certainly was. He had expected Malfoy to be a right git through the week, but he had been surprisingly... polite. He hadn't even commented on the singing announcement sent by the Ministry, for which Ron was pathetically grateful. He would like to get a hold of the idiot who thought singing announcements would be a good idea, and definitely would like to know why they were sent out so soon. He hadn't even been given a _chance_ to tell Malfoy himself. Not that he'd been planning on it...

"Well, I supposed we'd best get started; I'm sure no one would like to be here all weekend. If no one minds terribly, I've drawn up a Malfoy family base contract." With a flick of his wand, copies of the contract appeared in front of everyone. Arthur sighed and picked the contract up, settling in for a long debate. He wasn't stupid: he knew very well that the Malfoys would get just about everything they wanted, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least put a fight for his son's sake.

"Considering the circumstances of this union, we have agreed to allow Mr. Weasley to undergo revirginization, should the process be necessary." His eyes locked onto Ron, and Ron frowned.

"What?"

"It most definitely is _not_ necessary," Molly proclaimed, tightening her grip until Ron was forced to hiss and pull his hand away.

"That hurt, mum! And _what_ isn't necessary?"

"Are you a virgin, Mr. Weasley?"

"What?!"

"You see, not necessary at all. Of course he is! The boy's only seventeen, for chrissake!" Ron blushed bright red and looked away nervously; acutely aware of Mr. Malfoy's gaze, which was trained intently on the side of his face. He cleared his throat and pointedly did not look at his mother.

"I'll have an appointment arranged," Mr. Malfoy said simply, making a note on a piece of parchment. Ron blushed harder.

"What do you mean, you'll make an appointment? It's obviously not necessary; Ron's just embarrassed, that's all."

"Molly..." Arthur said, laying a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder. "It's alright Ron."

"What?" Arthur gave her a pointed look. After all, they'd had sex for the first time in her fifth year. She blushed pink and looked down at her son in shock. She wasn't so naive to believe that no one had sex before marriage, but Ron had just never struck her as the type.

"The matter of revirginization of course brings up another matter. If you'll direct your attention to paragraph 2 section b. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy will enter into a subcontractual engagement period of three months, during which Mr. Weasley will prepare himself for the revirginization process, on which you will be briefed later. Is that agreeable?" Ron nodded mutely, still unable to look up at his parents.

"That's fine, Mr. Malfoy."

"Does _he_ have to do it?" Ron asked suddenly, tossing a glare in Draco's direction.

"Do what?"

"That... virgin thing."

"Absolutely not," Lucius dismissed with a sneer, before picking up his copy of the contract and flipping the page.

"Why?" Ron demanded. "_He's_ certainly not a virgin," he continued viciously, even though his cheeks grew even warmer with embarrassment. Draco cocked an eyebrow at him. Ron had walked in on Draco and Blaise once. By a strange mutual agreement, they'd never mentioned the incident.

"He doesn't have to be," Lucius said faintly. "Of course, I'm sure you've noticed by now that the contract is, as one might expect, life-binding-"

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why doesn't he have to be?" Ron demanded. If _he_ had to go through it, Malfoy sure as hell should have to as well!

"Ron-"

"Because, Mr. Weasley, Malfoy husbands are not required to be virgins at the time of marriage. Satisfied?"

"What makes him the 'husband'?!"

"Ron, I'll explain it to you later," Arthur said gently, setting a hand on his enraged son's arm. Ron glowered but subsided and Malfoy continued, his impeccably smooth voice summarizing clauses and pausing at just the right moments for emphasis or questions. Ron remained stubbornly silent throughout the rest of the meeting, which broke briefly at four for tea and then continued again until eight.

"Now, Mr. Weasley, have you any clauses you'd like to discuss for addition?"

"Huh?"

"Is there anything you'd like to add to the contract, Ron?" Arthur provided wearily.

"Well... yeah, actually, I would. I'd like to make it... _mandatory_ that Malfoy attend _all_ Weasley family gatherings and... and he treats my friends and family with respect. _All _of them." Draco raised an eyebrow and looked up at his father who shrugged slightly.

"That's agreeable to me. Father, if you would add them to the contract?" Lucius nodded briefly and made a note on his parchment.

"Was that all?" Ron thought about it. He honestly hadn't even thought about what he wanted in the contract, even though Hermione had suggested it.

"I guess... for now anyways."

"Good. Then I suggest we all take our copies home for review and meet again say... next Saturday, for revisions?"

"That sounds alright to me. Molly?"

"Fine."

"Good. Until then." Lucius stood and presented the Weasleys with a modest but courtly bow before sweeping out of the room, Draco fast on his heels.

xXx

"Mum...? I uh...well, I'm sorry, you know... about the-" Ron waved his hand vaguely, hoping she'd get it without him having to say anything.

"About what dear?" Molly gave him an exhausted smile and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about the revirginization, Ron."

"You're not upset?" Molly sighed and shook her head slowly, giving him another smile. For the first time Ron realized that his mother looked... old. Her face was tired and pale, and dark, heavy bags hung beneath her eyes.

"No, honey, I'm not. I'm not even really all that surprised. I _have_ raised five boys before you, you know; I'm not blind, deaf and dumb, contrary to popular opinion."

"But-"

"Just tell me Ron... are you still in a relationship with this person?" She stopped and turned, giving him a searching look. Ron shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks burning bright red. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his mother. He wished in vain for his father to turn around and come save him, but Arthur had pulled ahead of them almost as soon as they'd left the room.

"I... we're not really in a relationship... never really _were_ you know... it was just..." He blushed harder.

"Ron... it wasn't Harry was it?"

"No! No, mum! Merlin! _Harry_?! He's my best mate! Like a brother! And a _guy_... and... no! That'd be like... _Charlie_..." Ron shuddered visibly and Molly released a nearly inaudible sigh and gave her son a brilliant smile, but sobered quickly.

"Now, Ron, about Mr. Malfoy-"

"Which one?" Ron asked sullenly.

"The younger," she clarified.

"Oh, you mean my _soon-to-be_? What about him?" Ron asked, kicking lightly at the floor as they resumed walking.

"Well... he's a guy too, you know."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Thanks, mum, I never woulda guessed."

"Don't be tart with me! You're to be married to him for the rest of your life, Ron. Now... unless you think you can get over your dislike of men, and more to the point your dislike of _him_... I would suggest-" she cleared her throat and looked away from her son, "that you get sex out of your system before you have to be reviriginized," she finished, attempting to maintain as professional a tone as possible.

"Mum! Get it out of my _system_?!"

"Well, Ron, once you're married you'll never be able to touch anyone but him again."

"I'm sure I can sneak off-"

"You can't, Ron! You don't understand the magic behind marriage contracts... especially from a family as old as the Malfoys. You _cannot_ touch anyone other than him once you're wed. We'll have to read it more carefully, but there's usually a very harsh penalty that comes along with breaking the fidelity clause."

"Like...like what?" Ron asked, growing more concerned with each word. He had just assumed that he would have his lovers and Malfoy could have his.

"From a family like the Malfoys? I wouldn't be surprised if it was incarceration or worse."

"In... you mean like, prison?" Molly nodded, the stiff set of her shoulders betraying her anxiety. "Are you trying to tell me that I could get sent to Azkaban for _cheating _on Malfoy?" Molly rolled her eyes dramatically and Ron hissed angrily. What a week this was shaping up to be! "Wait... you said... 'or worse'? What's worse than Azkaban?"

"Banishment from the wizarding world... death."

Ron stopped cold. "_Death_?! Are you serious? _Death?_ I have a snog with a girl or somesuch and what... I just keel over?"

Molly made a frustrated noise and rounded on her son. "I don't _know_ Ron! That's why I said we'd have to _read _it."

"But, Mum, we can get that changed, right? I mean... we can negotiate it, right?"

"Probably not... most likely not."

"Why do they get all the say in the contract?!"

"Fidelity clauses are generally non-negotiable," Molly explained wearily, beginning to walk once again. "And generally so are their punishments. I'm sorry, Ron... I should have never made you go through with the Sorting."

"Mum... you didn't make me... I mean, you didn't make Percy, right? I coulda said no..." Ron reminded her. They'd all been given a choice; granted, his mother had been an enthusiastic supporter of the tradition, but in the end the choice had been theirs to make. Ruefully, Ron remembered the conversation he'd had with Harry on the train. _"He's not allowing himself to be chained into an arranged marriage and that makes him a prick?" _Maybe Percy had had the right idea after all. The prick was probably sitting in his London flat gloating about it too...

"Mum... I'm just... gonna go to bed."

"But, Ron, your brothers..."

"I'll see 'em later, okay? I just... kinda want to be alone right now, you know?" She nodded sympathetically and Ron gave her a hug before turning around and heading for Gryffindor Tower.

xXx

By the time Ron made it back to the Tower, the common room was empty and the dorm lights were off. He undressed quickly, crawled quietly into bed, and pulled the covers up around his chin. Though exhausted, he found it impossible to sleep and was therefore pitifully grateful when the side of his bed dipped and Harry cautiously whispered, "Are you awake?"

Ron sat up and pulled the blankets back so his friend could crawl in next to him. Harry took a moment to close the draperies and then crawled under the blankets. Ron could sense his unease and immediately noticed that he was clutching his wand, but didn't say anything. He waited patiently for Harry to speak and, several minutes later, was rewarded with a nervous, "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, mate. Anything."

"Uh... well, you can definitely say no, and I'd completely understand... because... well it's odd and all...like... really odd..."

"Harry, what is it?"

"I..." Harry sighed and sat up. "I got Sorted to Snape."

"No joke?"

"Unfortunately."

"Merlin... and I thought _I_ had it bad!"

"Well... you do."

"Don't I know it," Ron muttered. "But what did you need?"

"I... well..." Harry cleared his throat nervously and shifted his weight from side to side, his knuckles white around his wand.

"Just out with it, Harry."

"I um... am still a... well... virgin... actually."

"Yeah, I know, Harry."

"And there's a fidelity clause in the contract."

"You have ones of those too? Doesn't that just beat all? Mum said that you could _die_ from breaking one of those. _Death_. I mean, really-"

"Ron?"

"Yeah, Harry?"

"Would you have sex with me?"

The world froze and Ron's jaw dropped open in shock. "What?"

"I just... I didn't want Snape... and then... it's just..." Harry sighed. "Sorry. I really shouldn't have asked you... I mean... we're like brothers right? And that would be just... weird..." As Harry babbled on, Ron slowly processed his friend's request, his earlier conversation with his mother also running through his head. _Get it out of your system_... Harry cleared his throat. "I'll just go," he said finally, throwing the blankets off.

"Harry wait..." Harry stopped, his back tense, his entire body radiating nerves. Part of him had really just wanted Ron to say _no_, or even _absolutely not_ or possibly _are you _mad?! Because he certainly thought he was, and it would be nice to have a little confirmation and all. Part of him really wanted to run back to bed and tomorrow they could just pretend it was a crazy dream, or chalk it up to the stress of the past week. But another, very insistent part really didn't want the only person he ever touched to be _Severus Snape_. So he waited.

"I... why not, right? I mean, I have to be... revirgined or whatever anyways, so... so... sure. Right... like, now?" Harry turned around slowly. Even in the dark he could tell that Ron's eyes were wide and his bottom lip had been pulled nervously in between his teeth.

"Is that alright?"

"Uh... yeah. Um... do you have... you know, any oil, or... you know, whatever blokes do?" Harry nodded, holding up a small container of lotion that Mrs. Weasley had packed into his bag some time ago. Ron nodded, pulled the blankets back and nervously patted the space beside him. Casting a silencing charm and setting the lotion down, Harry slowly lowered himself to the mattress. They lay shoulder-to-shoulder for several minutes before Ron cautiously rolled on his side and, trembling and feeling slightly ill, placed a hand on Harry's exposed chest. Harry shivered at the touch and nodded encouragingly, lifting a shaking hand to set awkwardly on Ron's shoulder.

"Should we... I don't know... snog a bit or something? Do blokes do that?" Ron asked uncomfortably. Harry might have laughed, probably should have laughed, or maybe screamed, or possibly cried, but all he could do was nod. Ron stiffly set his hand on the pillow beside Harry's head, and then moved it as though to cup his neck, stopped, and set it on his friend's shoulder instead. After several half starts, misses and generally failed attempts, their lips met, feather light and trembling as they attempted to maneuver themselves into a comfortable position, hands awkwardly seeking purchase on bodies they knew but didn't _know_ and finding none.

"Here... maybe I should..." Harry took off his glasses and reached through the draperies to set them on the bedside table. "There... maybe...what if I rolled on my side..." He tried the position, but it turned out to be equally awkward and their faces still connected oddly and their teeth clinked loudly and sometimes painfully against each other. Ron tried rolling onto his back and Harry followed cautiously, still trying to get comfortable. Ron's hand again took up its cautious exploration, flitting nervously from one place to the next, barely touching some, helplessly clutching at others. Harry tried kissing down his neck and bit once at his shoulder but froze abruptly when Ron's shaking hand touched briefly over the front of his shorts. Ron froze as well and for a few painful moments neither moved nor even dared to breathe.

Finally, Harry flopped back onto his back and for another several minutes, they lay shoulder-to-shoulder.

"This isn't going to work," Ron ventured finally.

Harry sighed and nodded. "Yeah it's just too..."

"-much like kissing Charlie," Ron finished.

Harry winced and nodded. "Yeah, something like that. I would have said Dudley, but," Harry shuddered, "I'd rather bugger a goat than that fat pig." Suddenly, helplessly, Ron started to laugh. It wasn't so much that it was all that funny, but that the tension just seemed to snap and seconds later, Harry joined him and they clutched at each other as they laughed hysterically and kicked and rolled. Tears were leaking out of Harry's eyes and his sides hurt before they finally calmed.

"I hope _I_ rank better than the goat," Ron said finally, still laboring to control his breathing. Harry smiled widely.

"_Snape_ ranks better than the goat," Harry said thoughtlessly. Abruptly, he stilled and reality came crashing back. "Which is a good thing... I guess," he added soberly.

Ron's smile fell and he nodded. "I _am_ sorry, mate."

"It's alright, Ron. It wasn't really fair of me to ask you anyways."

"I'm sure Seamus-"

Harry shook his head, almost sharply. "That's not fair to either him or Hermione," he said. After all, he hadn't been completely oblivious to the longing looks and not-so-subtle advances the Irish boy had been making since fifth year, but Hermione was already having enough trouble with him. "No... I guess it's off to the convent for me," Harry said, trying to make his voice light and failing, but Ron pretended that he hadn't and chuckled.

"Hey, Ron?" Harry asked finally. "What was that you were saying about being revirgined?"

"Oh, I don't really know. I'll have to ask Hermione about it tomorrow. It's because _Malfoy wives are supposed to be virgins_," Ron mocked, rolling his eyes.

"Ouch. You got the "wife" title too?"

"Yeah. Load of shit if you ask me."

"Ron? Could I sleep here tonight?"

"Well... I suppose... 'long as you don't try to molest me in my sleep or somesuch nonsense..." Harry rolled his eyes and Ron laughed. Comfortable once again, they settled in and quickly fell asleep.

xXx

"It's _revirginization_, Ron, and why do you want to know?" Hermione asked, not looking up from her parchment.

"Because I have to do it," Ron said, though from his tone, he apparently thought it was obvious.

"You _what?_ But it's an absolutely _barbaric_ process! How dare they force you into it!" Ron began to grow nervous and he exchanged a look with Harry. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed in frustration. "Revirginization is the magical equivalent of Muggle vaginal reconstruction surgery, except worse. It's completely demeaning, and a wholly frivolous and idiotic procedure that pureblood women use to tighten their vaginal channel when they get too loose."

"Ewww... Hermione!"

"What? You asked!"

"But I don't _have_ a... vagina."

"Come on, Ron, even _you're_ not _that_ clueless. I'm sure you know how two men have sexual intercourse!"

"But I've never done that!" Ron protested. Maybe that would save him. He would just have to tell Malfoy that he'd never done... _that_... and the whole thing would be over.

"That's not all it is, Ron, that just mostly what it is. It is also cleanses the body of foreign magical taint obtained through sexual intercourse and tricks your magical signature into _thinking_ you're a virgin again. It's a loophole that's exploited in lower-level potions and charms that require "virgin" blood and other such nonsense."

"But why would _I_ need all that? I've only done it once... and it was with a girl," Ron muttered, face bright red. Hermione opened her mouth and then stopped abruptly, her eyebrows drawing together.

"Who?"

"What? What do you mean who?"

"Who was it?"

"Why?!"

"Because I want to know!"

"So! It's private! You don't get to know _everything_, Hermione!"

"Fine," she said, and turned back to her parchment, ignoring them.

"Alright, alright! Jeeze! You'd think there was a law somewhere that says you get to know everything about _every_thing. It was Lavender," he muttered, glaring at her reproachfully. In truth his singular sexual experience had been a complete and utter disaster and had consisted of nothing but a few minutes of gasping and rutting, a spectacular climax on his part and an uncomfortable grimace from her. They were still awkward around each other and as a rule tended to avoiding being in the same room for any length of time if it could be at all helped.

"Lavender Brown?!" Hermione asked, a little too loudly. Madam Pince hissed at them from behind her desk, giving them an irritated glare, and Ron scowled at Hermione murderously.

"How many other 'Lavender's do we know, Hermione?" Ron snapped, earning them another hiss and a sharp slap to the desk. "Sorry," he apologized.

"Sorry, I was just surprised, that's all. Anyways, the Malfoy family is old, so it's probably built into the marriage ceremony and charms that the wife be 'pure,' plus, back before there was proper contraception of any kind, and knowledge of genetics was sketchy at best, it was the easiest way to ensure that the heir was legitimate."

"Well... but why are they still doing it? We have all that stuff now, right?"

"Yes, but the Malfoys are elitist purebloods. They're all about tradition and 'the old ways' so it's no wonder they haven't taken the practice out yet."

"What is revirginization, exactly?" Harry asked while Ron seethed. Hermione rolled her eyes again and looked at Ron.

"First you'll have to go on a strict diet for a few months, and then you go down to the clinic. The procedure takes all day with several days for recuperation. They clean you out end to end, scrub your skin off, shave your head, then heal you and you spend the rest of the day soaking in warm water and getting manicures and things like that."

"Take my _skin off_? Tell me you're joking!"

Hermione shook her head.

"But... if they're trying to trick the magical signature, why would they need to do that?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"They don't _need_ to, and that's why it's a load of crap and completely barbaric. They advertise it as some kind of beauty salon, and a lot of women _do _go repeatedly to get new skin and hair, and, of course, a virgin-like vaginal channel."

"Stop _saying_ that!" Ron demanded with a shudder. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and continued.

"At least it will buy you a little time before the wedding, but still, absolutely barbaric," Hermione huffed, leaning back in her chair and glaring into space, no doubt ranting in her head about the injustice of the practice. Harry wouldn't be surprised to see buttons start materializing around the school.

"Yeah... Malfoy... _Mr_. Malfoy said we'd have to start a courtship or something that's supposed to be three months."

"Only three? And a traditional courtship? Merlin, he's pressing things a bit! You'd think he'd be a little less excited to get the wedding going!" Hermione declared.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked nervously. He'd thought three months had been pretty good, considering that he'd resigned himself to the unpleasant thought of being married by the end of the following week.

"You'll probably start the diet as soon as the contract is signed, which barely leaves you time for recuperation before the wedding!"

"How do you know all this anyways?" Ron asked, eyes narrowing. "It's not exactly something we talk about in class, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes and even Harry gave him a disparaging look. "Honestly, Ron! You know me better than that: like we need to talk about it in class for me to research it! I just came across it when reading a history text and looked into it. It's been going on in the British Isles for only a hundred years or so, but it was originally a Mesopotamian punishment for adulterers and sodomizers. It's still a practiced form of _torture_ in the Middle East, for Merlin's sake! And here women think it's some kind of high class beauty treatment!" She rolled her eyes expressively.

For his part, Harry was sitting back in his chair and watching Hermione uneasily. He suddenly remembered Snape asking if he was a virgin and wondered if he would have had to go through this process if he and Ron _had_ managed to accomplish anything the night before. Unbidden he felt immensely gratefully that they hadn't managed it, and then felt guilty for it.

"I'll do it with you," he blurted out without thinking, and immediately wished he could unsay the words, but both his friends were already staring at him in shock, so Harry wiped the shock off his own face and straightened up. "I'll do it with you," he repeated with more conviction. "You shouldn't have to go it alone."

"But, Harry... you're still a virgin."

"Is it included in your contract too?" Hermione asked curiously, giving him a measuring look.

Unaccountably, Harry blushed. "I don't think so. There's nothing in it saying I have to be a virgin or anything...but Snape did ask," he muttered, his face burning at the remembered embarrassment.

"Then you shouldn't, Harry."

"But I want to," Harry said, more emphatically than he intended. _Stop! Are you crazy?!_ He thought to himself helplessly, but couldn't force himself to back down.

"Thanks, mate," Ron said, eyes bright and face showing his gratitude. Slowly, his face fell. "But I think Hermione's right," he continued, but with no conviction. "You don't need to do this. It sounds pretty horrible."

Harry should have taken the out, but, unbelievably, he frowned. "I don't _care_ Ron; I'm not letting you do this alone."

"Harry-"

"It's decided. I'll go on the diet with you and we'll go in on the same day. Sometime between now and then I'll lose my virginity and that will be that. Besides, I really don't want _Snape_ to be the only person I ever touch in my life."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a widening of Hermione's eyes and then, horribly, a drawled, "Now what's all this about?"

Harry froze, his eyes impossibly wide. Amazingly, Ron recovered first and turned in his seat so fast that he should have been injured.

"What are you doing lurking around here, Malfoy?!" he demanded, standing, his fists clutched at his side in a white knuckled grip. Draco raised a condescending eyebrow and tipped his hip slightly, creating an arrogant, seductive pose that made Ron glare and Hermione blush.

"So... Harry Potter and Severus Snape, hm? Quite the match, I must say. I was wondering..." Draco contemplated the back of Harry's head and then abruptly brought himself up to his full height and crossed his arms in front of his chest in a manner that was more professional, though, infuriatingly, no less seductive. "I ran into my godfather in the hallway, and he seemed quite irate. Naturally, I inquired as to the source of his particular annoyance and he announced that one Mr. Potter was quite _dreadfully_ late to a meeting they were supposed to be having in the headmaster's office." Harry groaned and checked his watch. Sure enough, he was nearly forty-five minutes late to the meeting, but was unwilling to turn and look at Malfoy. "I had wondered why you should be meeting, but, being the gracious soul that I am, asked no questions and offered to come find you, since I was on my way to see Ronald and supposed the two of you would be together." Finally, Harry managed to turn in his seat and present Draco with a death-inducing glare

"You know, Potter," Draco continued, more seriously, "if you can avoid revirginization, you really should. It's not a pleasant experience, or so I've been told." He shrugged and Harry glared.

"If I need your advice on _anything_ I'll ask," he said snidely. Draco shrugged delicately and tipped his head in a manner that was purely _regal._ "Why are you being so… polite?" Harry asked, raising his upper lip in a scowl. True, Malfoy had more or less stopped being such a git since the year started, but Harry had still expected him to be a little more… Malfoy-ish.

"Funny that you would mention it. Very shortly I will be… contractually _obligated_ to treat my fiancé's family and friends with consideration and respect. So I thought it would be best to get some practice in. But you should probably run along to your meeting, before Professor Snape becomes even _more_ incensed. Or is it Severus to you now?"

"Absolutely not!" Harry hissed.

"Pity."

Harry glared at him for a moment longer and then turned sharply and said goodbye to Hermione and Ron before stomping out of the room.


	8. FIVE

FIVE

"How gracious of you to appear before us, Mr. Potter," Snape sneered as soon as the door opened. Dumbledore gave him a brief, weary glance, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry, Professors. I lost track of time," Harry said, though his tone and eyes conveyed his apology only to the headmaster.

"You're an _hour late,_ Potter!" Severus hissed. Harry shot him a glare, but before he could say anything, the headmaster held up a forestalling hand.

"But, you're here now, and that's what's important," he said, giving Snape a steady look to stop him from saying anything more. Reluctantly, the irate professor stilled, but sat, silent and steaming in his chair while Harry took the adjacent seat and pulled out his copy of the contract.

"Now, Harry, have you thought of any other further objections?" Dumbledore asked, picking up his own copy of the thick manuscript.

"Hermione told me that all those stupid clauses-"

"There is nothing stupid in this contract!"

"-are meant to draw out the negotiations. But I don't _want_ to spend days or months... or _years_ talking about _socks_ and toothbrushes. So... no. No I don't. I just want this over with."

"Harry, let me stress again-"

"Sir... Professor Dumbledore, please... I know... this is 'life long.' But with all due respect, increasing the number of shades of lipstick I can wear is not going to make me happy. None of this is likely to make either myself or Professor Snape happy, sir." He could practically _feel_ Snape rolling his eyes, but didn't turn to look at the professor.

"I _do_ disagree, Mr. Potter, but it's hardly my place, and I can't _make_ you object to anything. So, unless Severus has any objections, we'll sign and seal the contract. Severus?" Dumbledore tipped his chin down slightly to look at Snape over the rim of his glasses, but Snape merely shook his head.

"Well, then, I guess there's nothing left but to sign and seal the contract." Dumbledore withdrew the final form of the contract; a long scroll of heavy parchment liberally decorated with calligraphy and a colored border appeared before them.

"Harry James Potter do you declare full and complete understanding of all clauses and subclasses included in this contractual agreement?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered. Dumbledore gave him a pointed look over his glasses and Harry amended his answer to, "I do."

"And do you agree to uphold and abide by all clauses included in said contractual agreement?"

"I do."

"Please sign and date here."

A white quill with a massive plume appeared before him and he plucked it out the air with a slight sigh. Setting the quill against the parchment, Harry signed his name and added the date on the bottom line.

"Good. Now, your new name on the bottom center line."

"My _what_?!" _Oh, you've got to be _kidding_... I probably should have contested _that_ one_. Dumbledore did not answer him and Harry clenched his teeth until they creaked, but set the quill to the floating parchment once more, and with a sick feeling rising quickly in the back of his throat, signed _Harry James Snape_ on the bottom line. He watched in horror as the two signatures glowed bright gold and the contract disappeared, only to reappear in front of Snape. The man went through the same process -minus the new name- and contract reappeared in between them.

"Now, you need only seal the contract and all is done," Albus explained, giving Harry an encouraging smile. Snape turned to him with a dark look on his face and leaned forward. Immediately, Harry leaned back.

"Stop making this difficult!" Snape growled quietly, his voice dripping condescension. Harry glared at him and he leaned forward again, moving forward in his chair until he perched on the very edge of it. Harry leaned back further yet, trying to hide in the fluffy back of the arm chair. "Potter-!"

"Don't you mean _Snape?!_" Harry asked viciously.

Severus made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "Get over here so we can seal the damn contract and be _done_ with it!"

"_What?!_"

"Never heard the term _sealed with a kiss_?" Snape inquired, his voice soft but eyes burning.

Harry's eyes widened in realization and a sick look crossed his face. "No way."

"Harry, this is not optional, and you're running out of time."

Harry gave the headmaster a helpless, horrified look, but at the headmaster's insistence leaned forward and closed his eyes tightly. He heard a disgruntled noise from Snape, but the potions master didn't lodge any further complaints. His hands -_cold_- came up to Harry's face. He tipped the boy's head slightly to the side and held him firmly in place as he set his own lips against his bonded's. Harry tried to jerk away, but Snape merely tightened his hold to an almost painful level of pressure and the boy subsided. The kiss was chaste but lasted several seconds. Harry was just beginning to relax when they were showered with tiny gold sparkles and the contract disappeared with a loud _pop!_

Snape released him immediately and Harry backed away as soon as he was free. "Can I go now?" he asked hotly, glaring at both the headmaster and the potions master for not warning him. But then, they never really warned him about anything, now did they?

"One moment," Dumbledore answered, picking up the quill. Harry realized that the contract had appeared in front of the headmaster and waited impatiently for the man to sign it. "I, Albus Dumbledore, do so witness the signing and sealing of this contract on this day, September the tenth, nineteen hundred and ninety-seven. So witnessed." He signed the contract with a flourish and it disappeared, showering the room, once again, in glowing sparkles. "Now you may go, Harry."

Needing no more encouragement than that, Harry all but leapt from his seat and was out the door in a matter of heartbeats, leaving a stiff silence in his wake.

"Severus, you really needn't go out of your way to make Harry miserable; he does that perfectly well on his own," Albus said, his voice weary.

Severus snorted and, without a word, left the headmaster's office.

"This is almost turning out to be more effort than it's worth," Albus muttered once the door was shut. "Ah, but the ends justify both the means and the headache, right Fawkes?" The bird let out a sweet trill and Albus sighed, his eyes lingering on the door Harry and Severus had so recently fled through.

"Well, it's done," Harry announced sullenly. "I just thought you should know before you see it on the front page of the _Prophet_." Harry was grateful that everyone else had thus far had their own matters to attend to and hadn't been bugging him -too much- on his own Sorting. He was dreading the pandemonium that would break out as soon as the Prophet got a hold of the news though. And since all marriage certificates -if not the contracts themselves- were public domain, that would doubtlessly be soon. He wouldn't be surprised if someone was _already_ drooling over it and writing the story. Since contracts were private property, they'd probably be making up particulars to suits their tastes.

"I'm sorry Harry," Ron lamented.

"Me too. So, any new developments while I've been away? I see Malfoy has left at least; what did he want?"

Ron grimaced and looked up at Hermione. She rolled her eyes and handed over a long roll of parchment. Harry opened it cautiously.

'_The Fountain of Youth' w_as written across the top in a fancy, flowing script, liberally decorated with swirls and flowers.

"Is this...?" Harry asked, his upper lip pulled slightly upwards.

Ron grimaced and nodded miserably. "I'm not lettin' you do it, mate," Ron said firmly. "I read all of the instructions and the diet... no way. You're not going through it too."

Harry opened his mouth as though to protest but Ron gave him a stern look. Secretly Harry was relieved, and felt immediately guilty for it. He glanced through the instructions to the diet. It was a strict regimen to be followed for forty-five days. The _same_ routine for forty-five days.

_5.5 oz Plain oatmeal, a single slice of unbuttered toast, 8oz of orange juice (high pulp) between 7:00 and 7:30am_

_One ham sandwich (whole wheat bread, no mayonnaise, light mustard, one thin slice of cheddar cheese, lettuce and tomato), 1 medium-sized apple, 8oz pumpkin juice between 12:30 and 1:15pm_

_Either: 1 medium-sized apple _or_ 1 large orange_ _between 3:00 and 3:30 pm_

_5oz plain brown rice (steamed), 1 boneless, skinless chicken breast (boiled) _or_ 1 medium fish fillet (Red. Grilled), 5oz green beans (steamed) (max 1/8 tsp salt, no butter), 12oz milk (2% milkfat) between 6:00 and 7:30pm_

_32oz plain water to be consumed throughout the day._

Harry winced and looked up at Ron. "This is horrible."

"How am I going to survive on that?! I'll burn that whole thing off in _one_ Quidditch practice!"

"This diet isn't designed for an athlete, Ron," Hermione reminded him, "It's designed for a trophy wife who sits home all day doing nothing more physical than _maybe_ trimming her rosebushes."

"But I _don't_ sit around all day and trim rosebushes!" Ron snapped. "And you _know_ my school work is going to suffer; I won't be able to concentrate on _anything_!"

"Like you don't have that problem already," Hermione pointed out. He glared at her viciously and she sighed. "I'm sorry. I know this is a bad situation... but there _is _a reason for the diet. If you don't follow this _exactly_ the revirginization is going to be _bad_."

"It's already going to be bad!"

"_Worse_. Much, _much_ worse," Hermione amended, obviously holding her temper in check in light of Ron's distress.

Harry was sure that the rest of the extensive list was just as bad -a brief glance included instructions on cleaning oneself after using the privy- but Harry suddenly had no desire to know. At least not right now. He passed the scroll back to Hermione.

"Hermione is going to read everything and help keep me on the stupid plan," Ron muttered by way of explanation. "Because I don't even wanna _think_ about what 'Much, _much_ worse' means. Especially since I already know what 'bad' is."

Harry nodded sympathetically. "I'll at least go on the diet with you, how's that?" he tried.

"I appreciate it, mate, I really do. But you need more calories than I do anyways. You're the one who needs to put _on _weight, after all," Ron pointed out.

"Well, I can at least do the basic thing with you and just add more, so I get the right calories. I can do that, right 'Mione?"

"I don't see why not. When I bring the list to the kitchens, I'll make sure they know that it is to be _strictly_ followed and _neither_ of you are allowed to get food after hours. I'll adjust it for you, Harry, so you get the calories you need. As for you, Ron... well, all I can suggest is that you conserve energy where you can, and burn the least amount of calories possible. I know I'm not going to be able to convince you to sit out of Quidditch until this over, so I'm not even going to try. Even though it _would_ be best." She sighed. "We're going to have to start studying in the common room. Harry and I can fetch whatever books we need and meet you there. You're going to have to restrict your movements to classes and the Great Hall only where ever possible. Try to get everything you need for the night before coming up to the Tower and just stay in for the night once you get there. I know, it sucks, but it's only for forty-five days."

"_Only_-"

"Well, you _could_ be on a less-strict diet that lasts ninety days, or you can put up with this crap for half the time and get it over with. Which do you prefer?" She asked sweetly. Ron glowered at her. "That's what I thought. Besides, Harry and I can be your legs for you for the next month and a half."

"Oh, _really_?"

"Don't get a big head too quickly, mister!" She warned. "Because _technically_ all the running around, carrying your books, and fetching you things job falls to Malfoy. Abuse us, and I _will_ remind him of that."

"Thank you, Granger, but I do not require 'reminding' regarding my duties."

Ron, whose mouth had been open to retort, glared at his betrothed hotly. "Do you just _hover_ around us, waiting for the perfect entrance or what?!" He demanded.

"So you think my entrances are perfect? How sweet."

"Malfoy-!"

"Don't you think you should call me 'Draco,' darling?"

"No, I don't," Ron seethed. "Why are you back here anyways?"

"I just returned from the kitchens. Where I have informed the house elves that you are on a strict diet for medical purposes and are not to be given anything but what is listed," Draco said, smoothly sliding into the chair next to Harry and, consequentially, across from Ron. "As for your 'running around, carrying your books, and fetching you things' that _is_ my job, and I shall take it very seriously."

"Reeeeeallly? Go... get me a... glass of water!"

"If we were not in the library, I would be more than happy to oblige. However, medical or not, I do believe Madam Pince would object," Draco said amiably, smiling gently, his eyes glittering. Ron glowered. "Your diet begins tomorrow morning. I'll meet you at the base of Gryffindor Tower at 7:00. Is that acceptable?"

"Would you care if it wasn't?" Ron asked sullenly.

"Probably not, but I would make an attempt at appearing to."

"Why thanks ever so much." Ron sneered and Draco replied with a placid smile.

"You're quite welcome. Mr. Potter; how did your meeting with my godfather go?"

"Go ask him," Harry suggested coldly.

"He's locked himself in his quarters and is not answering the door. So I'm asking you. Everything in order? Or are you still debating socks?"

"How did _you_ know about that?" Harry asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. In his head he immediately envisioned Snape sitting with his favorite little Slytherin and laughing over tea at the ridiculous thing he was forcing his _soon-to-be_ to sign.

"You're making the assumption that my godfather has shared the contents of your contract with me? Hardly. Most contracts have a clause about socks or hats or shoes, etc., ours states that I am not allowed to wear panty hose before midnight, except in the case of a blue moon on a Saturday."

Harry gaped at him stupidly. "Does it really?"

"Oh yes. Ronald, however, may not wear white stockings unless he is also wearing a white choker and no less than three diamond bracelets."

Ron glared, his face flushing in embarrassment. Harry laughed, put oddly at ease by the shared information. "I'm not allowed to wear flowered hats in the 'event of a social function on the second Friday of the months of October, December or May'," Harry confessed.

"That sounds about right," Draco returned with a genuine laugh.

"It's the end of the world," Ron moaned suddenly, his head connecting with the table.

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, obviously perplexed.

"You and Harry are just sitting there... companionably... laughing..." Hermione clarified, her own expression showing incredulity.

"I can be civil when I've a mind to it," Draco said defensively. "And Potter can be amusing when he takes the stick out of his arse."

"Is that what you call being _civil_?" Harry asked icily, his good humor fading immediately.

"Lighten up, Harry. Don't you know a joke when you hear one?"

"Not when it's coming out of you!"

Draco rolled his eyes and stood elegantly. Addressing his fiancé, he asked, "Do you need anything, Ronald?"

"For you to stop calling me that. And leave."

"What would you rather I call you? 'Weasley' will hardly be appropriate much longer and I've been essentially barred from the use of 'weasel'," Draco reminded him patiently.

"Only my great aunt Martha calls me 'Ronald'," Ron said with a groan and slight shudder as the most recent memory of his aunt was called to mind.

"Would you rather I call you 'Ron' then?" The sound of his common name on Draco's tongue sent another shudder down his spine and he looked up at the other boy incredulously. "'Ronald' it remains. If you'll excuse me; I have homework of my own and something of a bachelor party to attend. I would invite you, Potter, but I doubt you'd come."

For two seconds, Harry actually gave it serious thought. Ron's horrified expression froze the almost affirmative on his tongue and he shook his head.

"I didn't think so. I'll see you tomorrow morning then." He turned on his heel after a slight nod in Ron's direction and left.

Silence descended. Tentatively, Hermione broke it with a, "You should go, Harry."

She was greeted with two (much too loud) '_WHAT?!_'s

"I mean it. You should; the Snapes and the Malfoys are very close families. You'll be seeing a _lot_ of him in the near future. Not to mention the fact that he's marrying your best friend."

"All the more reason for Harry to stay away from him until he has no choice!" Ron argued.

"It would be good for Harry to integrate himself into their world, and a bachelor party is a far more gentle introduction than the formal engagement party which he'll doubtlessly be attending very soon."

"What are you talking about, Hermione?! Have you _lost it_?!"

Hermione rolled her eyes expressively and gave Harry a piercing look. "You _need_ the goodwill of the boys that will undoubtedly be at that party, Harry. I guarantee you'll appreciate a familiar face or two at the stuffy socials you'll be forced to attend soon enough."

"Hermione-"

"She's got a point, Ron."

"WHAT?!"

"I never really thought about it, but she's right. Once I marry Snape I'll probably have to go to loads of 'high society' dinners and crap. It would be nice to know people. Maybe even make some... well, friends..."

"Technically you're _already _married, Harry," Hermione said gently.

"...what?"

"You signed the contract, right?"

"Well... yeah, but there wasn't a ceremony or anything!"

"There doesn't have to be; the ceremony is just... a ceremony. It's the contract that matters. But all that aside; you should definitely go."

"Harry..." Ron sighed, his face falling. "You're right. So is she. You should go... just, try not to have _too_ much fun, right? It's a political-type assignment, right?"

Harry grinned. "Right."

"You better run and catch him before he gets too far," Hermione pointed out. "I'll take your books back for you."

"Thanks, 'Mione." Harry gave Ron a smile, which the boy returned miserably, and took off after Malfoy. Just as he turned to head to the dungeons, he heard a soft laugh and whirled to find the blond Slytherin leaning against the wall.

"I had hoped you would change your mind," he said with a dazzling smile. "Granger is right of course. As usual."

"Did you just compliment Hermione?" Harry asked, choosing to ignore the boy's admission of spying.

Draco shrugged noncommittally and flashed Harry a wolfish grin as he headed for the dungeons. Harry followed after half a dozen steps. "Technically," Draco started, his voice far more pleasant without malice tainting every word. Harry realized, quite abruptly, that Draco's voice had been like this since the beginning of the year. He set to analyzing that as Draco continued, "you shouldn't be coming to this. Being a soon-to-be wife and all, but then, you're Harry Potter. Social rules have never really applied to you."

Harry bristled, but Draco merely smiled benignly and continued walking.

The Slytherin common room was different than Harry remembered from his brief foray into enemy territory. It was cheery, he decided after a minor internal debate. The furniture had been rearranged to accommodate a more than usual capacity and males from all houses circulated around the room. There were very few females, and the ones he _did_ see were skimpily clad and dancing unabashedly atop tables, as were a few men. Harry felt his mouth drop open at the sight. Beside him, Draco chuckled and set a single finger under Harry's chin, forcing him to close his mouth.

"We are _so_ going to have detention for the rest of our scholarly _lives_ when this gets discovered," Harry groaned, channeling Hermione.

Draco laughed. "It's sanctioned. More or less." He winked at Harry and, grabbing him by the wrist, dragged him away from the doorway and into the common room proper.

"I see your mission was successful, Draco. Kudos, and I believe this is yours." Blaise Zabini ambled up to them, a drink in one hand and a small pouch in the other. He tossed the pouch to Draco, who immediately caught it. "I've got to hand it to you, you know how to work your mouth," he continued with a leer.

"Your _mission_?" Harry asked, his voice just _slightly_ dangerous.

"To lure you down here, of course."

"Oh, really?" Harry reached forward and plucked the pouch out of Draco's hand. "Then I believe this belongs to _Hermione_."

Draco grinned and acquiesced with an almost _regal_ incline of his head. "I suppose it does. Too bad the girl is marrying into the Finnigans; she could have easily climbed the social ladder.... perhaps she still may. A great head for social politics."

"...I think the world really is ending," Harry decided.

"Why's that?"

"You just complimented Hermione... _again_. With _witnesses!_" The small group that had formed around them laughed and Draco shrugged again, his eyes glittering with a dangerous sort of mirth.

"Come, Potter, it's your bachelor party too, after all. Come meet the girls... or boys, which ever you prefer."

"Whoa... sorry to disappoint but I might drop dead on the spot," Harry said, digging his heels in when Draco attempted to pull him toward the dancing girls -there was no _way_ those girls were students!- and the crowds that had formed around them.

"I never took you for that much of a prude."

"Sorry, Malfoy. But this _can't_ be a bachelor party for me. Not a bachelor anymore," Harry said, almost sorely.

"Beg pardon?"

"As Hermione informed me moments ago, I've been married for about..." Harry checked his watch. "Forty-five minutes."

"... you've what?"

Harry rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the blush creeping up on his cheeks once he noticed that the room had gotten suddenly very _very_ quiet. "I signed a contract with..." Harry looked around, but then, it _would_ be in the _Prophet_ tomorrow anyways. "your godfather," he finished. Part of him hoped -in vain- that no one knew Snape was Malfoy's godfather.

Draco grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from the crowd. "Do you mean to tell me that after less than a week you've _signed a contract_?!"

"...yeah."

"Potter... you idiot. There's a reason for clauses like the hat one-"

"I know! It's been explained. But I really don't care, Malfoy. Maybe I should just go..."

"Don't. Stay. It's alright; I just guessed that you would want to draw out negotiations as long as possible. You did have a mediator, yes?"

"Dumbledore."

"Well... I suppose that counts." Draco sighed. "Not the best choice, to be honest, but I suppose it counts. Well, I guess you can't rightly have a _bachelor's_ party -Merlin, what were you thinking, Potter? Signing a contract without a last night to celebrate your freedom?"

"I guess I didn't think about it," Harry said, his temper gradually rising, despite his best efforts to the contrary. _The Snapes and the Malfoys are very close..._ he reminded himself. _I should attempt to make nice..._

"You're a hopeless case, Potter. Well, come on, I guess this can be your _pre-_wedding party then. But it's still _my_ bachelor's party, so come help celebrate."

Reluctantly, Harry allowed himself to be pulled back into the room, even more aware of the eyes that were following them curiously. Draco dragged him over to the refreshments table and handed him a glass of pumpkin juice -at least it _looked_ like pumpkin juice- and then picked up one on his own.

"Gentlemen! And ladies," he added, once he had everyone's attention. The slightly affronted looks on the female dancers' faces eased. "I would like to introduce you all to the newly made Harry James Snape, ceremony pending, of course."

Harry stared at him in open-mouthed shock and the room broke out into cheers, catcalls and applause.

"Therefore," Draco continued, once they had quieted down. He put a firm hand on Harry's back when the other boy tried to back away. "This is no longer just a _bachelor's_ celebration, but a pre-wedding celebration as well!" He turned to Harry, who was white-faced and staring at him with betrayal written all across his face. _Making friends or not, I really shouldn't have come!_ Harry moaned in the safety of his own head. "Cheers!" Draco declared, holding his glass out. Harry had no choice but to hold his own out. Draco knocked them lightly together and as they drank the room shouted, "Cheers!"

"So; hands off professor Snape's wife, unless you'd like to lose them, and let's get the party started!"

Harry glowered. Draco grinned. Everyone laughed. Belatedly, Harry realized the room was spinning and had just enough presence of mind remaining to wonder what was in the pumpkin juice before he broke out into near-hysterical giggles.

The night passed surprisingly pleasantly.

"Oooooh…."

"Enjoy your political-type mission?" Ron asked sweetly, jumping onto Harry's bed once he realized the other boy was awake. Harry groaned at the jarring motion and reached out weakly to bat his friend away.

"Oh… my… god…" Harry pulled himself up slowly and felt around blindly for his glasses.

Ron finally took pity on him and handed them to him. Harry muttered his thanks and slipped them on.

"I think something died in my mouth," Harry moaned, making a face.

"What time did you get back last night?" Ron asked. "I started getting worried around one," he chastised.

"I…dunno. Help me up."

Ron sighed, but took his friend's hand and pulled him out of bed. Harry winced once his feet touched the cold floor and stuffed them hurriedly into his slippers.

"I'll be back," he mumbled vaguely as he headed for the bathroom.

After showering and assaulting his mouth with a toothbrush, Harry felt marginally better and headed back to the dorm room.

"That was some party, huh, _Mr. Snape_?" Harry glared in Seamus' general direction. The Gryffindors had been poorly represented at the bachelor's party, but, unfortunately, Seamus happened to be among those few present.

"Shove off, Finnigan," Harry growled.

"No really, I thought it was brilliant. How much of it do you remember?"

"Keep talking and I swear to Merlin I will hex you," Harry warned, the rough quality of his voice lending it a degree of danger. Apparently immune, Seamus merely chuckled and threw an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"C'mon, hurry up! Malfoy's gonna throw a fit if we're any later!" Ron snapped, throwing Harry his shirt.

"How late are we?" Harry asked through a yawn, pulling it on and fumbling with the buttons.

"'Bout twenty minutes."

"He deserves it. Let him go by himself," Harry grouched.

Draco was indeed getting annoyed by the time they finally made it down the stairs. He glared at them briefly before clearing his expression and gracing them with one of his increasingly common smiles.

"Good morning, darling. Ms. Granger… Harry." He gave Harry a particularly smug smile, which the dark haired boy returned with a sneer.

Draco chuckled and reached into his pocket. He withdrew a vial containing a clear blue liquid and offered it to Harry. Harry glared at him and made no effort to take the vial.

"It's not going to harm you, honestly."

"I doubt that. What was in the juice, Malfoy?"

"Wizard Weasley's No-Hang-Over Intoxicant," Draco said innocently.

"Like hell!"

"Well, yours might have had some vodka in it. Maybe." Draco grinned, Seamus and Ron both laughed, Hermione glared and Harry growled murderously. "Oh, calm down, the alcohol did you good. Here."

"If you don't mind, I'll pass."

"Harry, Harry, it's just a hangover remedy. One of my future brothers-in-laws', in fact. Certainly you trust something from the Weasley twins? Oh, honestly." He uncapped the potion and took a swallow. "Doesn't even taste too foul." He handed it out again, but it was intercepted by Ron. The redhead brought it to his nose and sniffed it.

"Yeah, that's one of theirs, alright." He handed it to Harry who downed it without further complaint.

"Who do you think they tested it on?" Ron asked when Hermione looked at him quizzically. She rolled her eyes and made a shoo-ing motion.

"Come on. You're going to miss breakfast, Ron," she huffed.

"Ah, of course." Draco shifted his bag to his left shoulder and gently tugged Ron's off his shoulder. Once both bags were secured over his left shoulder, he offered his right arm to his fiancé.

"You're kidding."

"I most certainly am not." He pushed his arm out again, ignoring Ron's horrified expression. "Perhaps you all could excuse my fiancé and me for a moment." Without waiting for a response, Draco picked up Ron's arm, looped it in his own and started walking, forcing the redhead to follow.

"I understand that to you the concept of a public persona is a foreign one, but you are a soon-to-be Malfoy. You're expected to act like one," Draco said, almost as though he were commenting on the weather.

Ron wrenched his arm out of Draco's and glared at the other boy viciously. "And that means letting you treat me like some… girl?!" Ron demanded.

Draco sighed and turned to face him, his eyes flickering briefly and distastefully to the small crowd that had gathered at a respectful distance. "That _means_ not making a public _spectacle_ of yourself," Draco hissed. "Now. Malfoy couples are _happy_ couples, and whatever else we are behind closed doors does not change the fact that we are a _Malfoy couple_. And being a _Malfoy_ _couple_ we are a _happy couple_. Do you understand?"

"The _hell_ I do!"

"I am in a unique position to make the rest of your life a living hell, _Ronald_. One word from me and you could spend the rest of your schooling with a private tutor. Among other things that you might find considerably less pleasant than smiling at your loving fiancé and allowing him to walk you to the Great Hall."

"I'm not going to go from hating you to hanging on your every goddamn word overnight, _darling_. That would hardly look _convincing,_ now _would_ it?!"

"It doesn't _need_ to be _convincing_; no one questions a Malfoy. Not even one that used to be a Weasley. So unless you'd like your life, and I daresay your family's lives to descend into the realm of nightmarish, you will _develop_ a 'public persona' and you will do so _quickly_," Draco suggested, his voice lowering just enough to be threatening.

Ron's eyes widened. "You can't. The contract says you have to treat my friends and family with respect."

"So it does," Draco answered cryptically, once again holding his arm out. His eyes flashed dangerously and Ron reluctantly swallowed his pride and, feeling sick, wound his arm around Draco's.


	9. SIX

SIX:

_**Harry James **__**Snape**_**:**_** The Match You Never Saw Coming?**_

Harry groaned, and rolled his eyes. "I don't even want to know what sort of crap they came up with," he said, dropping the _Prophet_ and turning his attention to his breakfast. All around him students were chattering in excitement and shooting glances between Harry and the head table, where one potions master was studiously ignoring the commotion.

"You should read it," Draco said conversationally.

Harry glared at him. Ever since his little 'chat' with his fiancé, Ron had been sullen and quiet. It further rankled that the Slytherin felt it necessary to sit at their table. To be with his future bride, he'd explained, though it was obvious he was merely keeping an eye on Ron's plate. And making everyone else utterly miserable in the interim.

"And why's that?" Harry asked, giving the Slytherin a cold glare. _The Malfoys and the Snapes are close…_ Harry reminded himself, as had been his running mantra since the night before.

"It's always pertinent to keep up with what people are saying about you. Lest you be caught unawares in a situation where a piece of gossip could save your… reputation," he said with a calm, unnerving smile.

Harry glared, but admitted that his long-time nemesis and reluctant 'friend' was probably right. There were numerous times in the past in which he could have handled a situation _much_ better if only he'd known the current rumor churning through the gossip mill. With a sigh he picked the paper up again and set to reading.

Glancing up at the head table, he could see his 'husband' doing the same. He could tell the exact moment where Snape came across the interesting tidbit involving an alleged 'sighting' of the professor and student in a 'compromising position' the year before and casting speculation on the _inordinate_ amount of detentions Mr. Potter received from a certain potions master. The man's face went white with rage and Harry watched with detached curiosity as he forcibly got himself under control and looked up to send a withering glare at anyone stupid enough to be staring at him. Harry had just the presence of mind to turn his eyes away before Snape's black gaze made it to the Gryffindor table.

"Well that was thoroughly… disgusting," Harry announced with a small shudder. Draco made a disgusted face at him and Ron leaned across the table.

"Be careful, mate," he whispered loudly. "Or else you'll get the 'public persona' lecture." He sat back, sending a defiant glare at his fiancé.

"He most certainly could use one. A marvelous idea, _darling_. If you would like, I'd be willing to give you pointers, Harry."

"Uh… no, that's okay…" Harry said, his eyes narrowed curiously at Ron. His best friend was not looking at him, however, but at the Malfoy heir. The look on his face was purely murderous. Draco returned the expression with a benign smile and Harry waited for something to spontaneously combust.

"Students! Your attention!" The hall quieted gradually as attention turned toward the head table. The headmaster was standing with his wand held to his throat, his eyes twinkling and face split with a smile. "Thank you. It has been an exciting few weeks! I wish to congratulate each and every one of you on your Sorting; my best wishes to all of Hogwarts' new couples! It is my fond hope that you each find the strength and support that is so desperately needed in these dark times. Not to mention great happiness! As my bonding gift to you all, next Monday will begin a two-week holiday!" He paused and waited for the excited chatter to die down. "During this time, you are all welcome to return home to celebrate your bonding with your families. Extra days may be requested in written form and are due in my office no later than this upcoming Thursday. I wish you all a pleasant week and a good day!"

Dumbledore canceled the _sonorous_ charm and took his seat, grinning at the students indulgently. The hall broke out immediately into an uproarious clamor and Harry quickly finished the rest of his breakfast, wanting nothing more than to escape the much too loud Great Hall. Ron moved to abandon the remains of his tasteless breakfast, but Draco insisted that he finish. Harry waited while Ron angrily shoveled the rest of the oatmeal into his mouth and washed it down with the remainder of his juice. He glared at Draco, one eyebrow raised questioningly. The blond sighed long-sufferingly and nodded. Harry gestured to Hermione inquisitively, but she waved them on, opting to stay with Seamus, who was still being an utter prat.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Escaping the noise?" Harry looked up at Dumbledore uncomfortably and nodded. They had just barely made it out of the Hall –and he could have _sworn_ the Headmaster was still at the head table when they left!- when the man seemed to simply appear out of thin air. "I was wondering if you might join me in my office for a cup of tea, Mr. Potter."

"It's Snape now, sir."

Harry turned to glare at Draco, but the boy kept his attention on the headmaster, his face a calm mask of indifference.

"Ah yes, I suppose it is. Well then, Harry, shall we?"

Ron looked at him helplessly, begging him to stay, but Harry was all too aware that the headmaster's invitation was not exactly a request, no matter how politely phrased.

"I'll see you in Care, Ron." He silently prayed that his friend would forgive him as Draco presented Harry and the headmaster with a polite, if distant, farewell and led his fiancé toward the greenhouses, and Ron's first class of the day.

"Well, it seems we need to find you a new first period class," Dumbledore announced after settling them in with tea and biscuits.

"…what?"

"While I, of course, trust Professor Snape to remain unbiased in the classroom, it's not exactly appropriate for a Hogwarts professor to have his wife sit in on a class, and I'm afraid the Board of Governors feel that Professor Snape may favor you unduly."

Harry snorted, unable to help himself. If anything, Snape was more likely to treat him _worse_ in class.

"Sir… I know the chances of me ever becoming an Auror are now slim to none… but I _need_ Potions."

"I realize that. You do know that you do not have to be enrolled in the NEWT level course to take the test, don't you?"

"No, I didn't… but… well, what would be the point in taking the test if I don't _know_ anything that's likely to be on it?"

"Who said anything about you not knowing anything?"

"Sir… I really don't understand," Harry confessed wearily. He was _far_ too tired to play this game.

"You'll have to be removed from his class, but I'm sure Professor Snape would still be more than willing to tutor you in everything you might need to know. I had meant to speak with you about extra Defense tutoring as well, but what with all the excitement, I haven't gotten the chance."

"You want me… to take _private_ lessons with Snape-"

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore corrected automatically.

"He's my husband, damnit," Harry snapped hotly, finding the whole situation frankly ludicrous. They were married and he was still expected to call the man _Professor_?! Dumbledore let the outburst pass, filling in the ensuing silence by bringing his tea up to his lips. Harry continued, glaring faintly at the headmaster. "You want me to take private lessons with _Snape_ in both Defense _and_ Potions and then take the Potions NEWT without having been enrolled in the class?!" _Are you MAD?!_

"I don't see a problem with it. He is your husband, after all," Dumbledore said placidly. Harry bristled at his own words being thrown back at him.

"What if… I dropped the class as a student and enrolled as an aide? But did all the work along with the class? Then he wouldn't have to tutor me privately."

"That is a possibility. Professor Snape mentioned that himself, as a matter of fact. And it would solve the dilemma nicely. What do you propose to do about the Defense lessons?"

"Can't I just take them with Remus?" Harry asked plaintively, even though he knew it would be impossible, as Remus and Sirius were both in Romania on Order business.

"Even if it were possible, Remus is not as qualified as Professor Snape for the type of things you need to learn. Your Occlumency, for example, needs work. And Remus, unfortunately, could not be of much assistance in that area. Remus is a wonderful teacher, but you need someone a little more knowledgeable in the actual curses you may one day soon be facing. Professor Snape could greatly assist you in your training."

Harry released a great sigh, because he knew it was true. He still couldn't shake the feeling that the man was trying to push him and his _husband_ into spending time together though. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the headmaster but finally muttered, "Fine."

"Wonderful! After dinner would probably be the best time for both of you, unless…?"

"No, that's fine…" Harry grumbled, remembering fondly the days when the time after dinner was reserved for Quidditch practice. He had quit the team at the end of the previous year though; as much as he loved to play, he had come to the conclusion that his schoolwork and training was far more important. Quidditch was fun, but he realized that not paying attention _here_ could mean death out _there_. Ron had been livid (as had the rest of the team) but all the excitement over the Sorting had succeeded in taking the attention away from him.

"Well then, I'll talk to Professor Snape and let him know that you've agreed to the arrangements. Now, I'll just write you a pass…" he trailed off as he searched his desk for a clean scrap of parchment and a quill, "and send you off to class. I will get you removed from the class this afternoon, so tomorrow will be your first day as an aide." He gave Harry a smile and handed over the half sheet of parchment.

"You'd best run along, before you miss too much of the lesson."

Harry groaned and quickly gathered his books. Snape would no doubt not care that he'd been in the headmaster's office, and he'd doubtlessly have to come back after classes to redo the lesson… he sighed and waved fleetingly to the headmaster as he left the office.

The rest of the week passed in a sort of oppressive limbo. Ron spent the week hiding in his room to avoid his fiancé, Hermione gave up on Seamus midweek and spent her time keeping Harry company, who was staunchly avoiding _his_ husband. As though to spite him, Snape had _not_ been a complete git all week, and in fact hadn't even snapped at him for coming to class late, and spent the rest of the week ignoring him unless Harry absolutely _required_ his attention. Draco allowed Ron his private time, though it was blatantly obvious that the redhead would not be able to get away with avoiding him for much longer. Instead, he spent much of his time with Harry and Hermione, despite their subtle -and in some cases not-so-subtle- hints that he really wasn't all that welcome.

Despite this, Harry noticed that Hermione was gradually warming to the Slytherin and by the time Friday rolled around she seemed almost comfortable in his presence, while Harry was still on guard. He was, however, making an attempt to put Draco's suggestions on 'public persona' into play and spent much of the day quietly observing the blond Slytherin and paying close attention to everything he said, and everything that went on around them. It was exhausting. But, as Hermione had pointed out several times, if he didn't pick up at least the basics, he would be eaten alive at his first high society event, which Draco assured him would likely be the following week.

"RON!!!!"

Rolling his eyes, Ron wearily got off his bed and headed for the door. Ginny was standing at the base of the stairs with her hands on her hips and a 'Molly Weasley Glare of Painful Death' (tm, all rights reserved) on her face.

"WHAT?!" he demanded, returning it with a patent-pending 'Weasley Boy Glare of Absolute Defiance.'

"Aren't you ready _yet?!_ We're scheduled to leave for home in _ten minutes!_ And where's your damn hubby?!"

"_Fiancé_, and right behind you," Ron said with a sneer. Ginny whirled to find Draco standing behind her with his arms crossed over his chest and an amused expression on his face. Ginny blushed red up to her hairline and coughed nervously.

"No harm done, Ms. Ginevra. If you'll excuse me, I'll go see to it that your brother is ready to leave on time." He gave her a polite nod and she stepped out of the way. "Good afternoon, Ronald," Draco greeted, sliding his arms around Ron's waist. Ron went painfully tense in his arms and Draco finally sighed before releasing him. Ron had been making an attempt -albeit a poor one- at complying with Draco's demand for a public persona, but the boy could only be pushed so far so fast.

"I'll help you pack," he announced, walking past him into the dorm room. Seamus was lying on his back amidst a mess that was probably the entire contents of his trunk, Neville and Dean were chatting animatedly as they folded clothing and stowed the last of their belongs, and Harry was watching them with a sullen, thoughtful expression. Ron's chest was open at the foot of his bed, but a peek inside revealed it to be completely empty. The items that _should_ have been inside were tossed over his unmade bed and hanging from the posts.

"Well..." Draco started, staring at it in shock. Slytherin dorms were kept pristine at all times, largely out of habit, but mostly because their Head of House would perform surprise inspections whenever the mood took him -sometimes in the middle of the night- and liberally distribute detentions for any small infractions. Draco cleared his throat and took out his wand. With a practiced flick he set the redhead's clothing into the air, where they shook out their wrinkles, folded themselves and arranged neatly in the trunk according to size, type and color. Ron watched in awe.

"Could you show me how to do that?" Seamus asked, sitting up and looking at the Slytherin hopefully. Draco face froze in mid-sneer and he sighed. With a flick he repeated the motion for the Irish boy and Seamus watched with a grin as his belongings began packing themselves.

"It's not something you learn in one afternoon," Draco said, sliding his wand back up his sleeve. Ron remained standing dumbly in the doorway while Draco tore the blankets off his bed and set to fixing the sheets. After a moment of silence, Harry got up to help him.

"Excited about your stay with your future in-laws?" Harry asked casually.

Draco's eyes snapped up to his face and examined him for any trace of a sneer or smirk. Finally he made a noise that would have been classified as a 'snort' had it come from anyone else. "You're getting better, Po-Harry. And yes, as a matter of fact, I _am_ looking forward to the next few days. I expect they'll be most enjoyable." He gave Harry an innocent smile and tossed a pillow at him, which Harry quickly tucked under the sheet. "And how about you? Are you visiting your family first, or going straight to the manor?"

Harry lost his carefully constructed neutral expression to a sour glare and then made a face at Malfoy's triumphant smirk.

"Mine," Harry muttered, tucking his side of the blanket in with a little more force than was strictly necessary, battling to get his facade back up.

"They're muggles aren't they?"

"Yes... they are. It will be an interesting visit, to say the least."

"I'm sure Severus is positively delighted to visit your childhood home."

_I doubt he'll fit in the cupboard_, Harry thought silently, but out loud said, "I'm sure he is."

"Stop that!" Ron finally snapped. Draco and Harry both looked up at him with near identical expressions of polite inquiry. Ron gave Harry a horrified look. "Stop it!" he shouted again, actually taking a step backwards.

Draco's eyebrows furrowed. "Stop what, dear? We're only making your bed."

"I know that! And I wasn't talking to you, ferret-boy!" Ron growled. Draco's eyes immediately darkened and Ron pushed the door shut. "Closed doors," he remarked with a sneer. Draco growled, but said nothing. "Stop acting like him, Harry! It's creepy! It's... it's _not right_!"

"You would do well to follow his example, Ronald," Draco said quietly, his voice neither exactly threatening, nor mild. Dean, Seamus and Neville watched the exchange carefully from their beds, being sure not draw attention to themselves. Ron merely growled at him and Draco turned away from him, tugging the comforter until it was straight.

"Come, or we'll be late. And I certainly don't want to hear any more shrieking out of your lovely sister. Mr. Thomas, you should probably also head downstairs with all haste." Draco pointed his wand at Ron's trunk and shrank it to a manageable size, then did the same for Dean's. "Harry; we'll be seeing you at the engagement party, won't we?" Harry nodded numbly, eyes still fastened to Ron, who was still giving him a look that screamed betrayal. Draco nodded, picked up Ron's trunks and headed out the door with the rest of the room's occupants on his heels

"Ron..." Harry pleaded desperately; he couldn't leave it like this; and he _knew_ how well his friend could hold a grudge. He would sit and stew over it until he'd blown Harry's actions out of proportion and there would be no reasoning with him.

After several tense minutes, Ron's face softened. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and held his arms out. Ron almost ran into him, sobbing uncontrollably, clutching at him desperately. Harry was reminded of their one night of botched intimacy and wondered why it wasn't this easy _then_. He wrapped his arms around his best friend and held him tightly as he rocked slowly from side-to-side in an almost dance-like motion. At length, Ron calmed, his sobs dwindling, though his grip did not loosen.

"I'm so scared, Harry," the redhead confessed quietly. "What if... what if You-Know-Who or...Harry, I don't know what to do!"

Harry held him tighter. They hadn't discussed it, but the thought had been on both of their minds. Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, and if Draco wasn't marked already, he was well on his way. What if Voldemort decided that Ronald Weasley was a better hostage or sacrifice than a Death Eater wife? Footsteps and an annoyed huff brought Harry's attention to the door. Draco was frozen on the threshold, his eyes impossibly wide as he took in the scene before him. Harry pleaded with him silently, but at that moment couldn't be sure if he was pleading for Draco to understand that this was an embrace between close friends, or he was pleading for Draco to keep his friend safe. Probably both, but Harry would never know which message got across. Draco merely nodded and Harry reluctantly pushed Ron to arms length.

"You'll be fine," he promised. "And besides, if any Death Eaters try to touch you, they'll have me to deal with, right?" Ron laughed nervously and Draco tensed again, his eyes narrowing. Harry met his gaze across the room, challenge in his eyes. Draco inclined his head and Harry presented Ron with a smile. "Go on, before Ginny claws her way through the wards and drags you down."

"Harry will you-"

"I'll be fine, Ron."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course." Harry brought himself up to his full height -_depressingly inadequate_- and turned his nose up. "I am a Snape after all," he said with a sniff, doing a fairly decent job of imitating Draco's aristocratic tones. From the door, Draco rolled his eyes and Ron laughed again.

"Alright... I guess I should go then..." he hesitated a moment more and Harry finally took him by the shoulders, turned him around and pushed him toward the door. Draco held an arm out and Ron sighed, but took it. He gave Harry one last look over his shoulder and disappeared down the hall.

"_Took_ you long enough!" Ginny huffed, giving her watch an exaggerated look. "We're already late! C'mon!" She then proceeded to grab Dean's hand and haul him to the fireplace where Professor McGonagall was waiting with her lips pursed.

Seamus and Hermione said their goodbyes, then stood back when McGonagall opened the wards around the Floo and ushered them in. For convenience sake, the Floos in the dormitories had been temporarily opened, but were to be monitored by the House Heads. The wards were lifted only long enough for the students to get through and then quickly snapped down again. She waved her hands impatiently and they quickly filed through. As soon as Draco disappeared she motioned for Hermione and Seamus, who would be Flooing to Seamus' home where they would spend the first five days, and then taking a plane to London, where they would take a taxi to Hermione's house.

Harry had already said his goodbyes to Hermione and Ginny earlier that morning, but still watched from the landing with a pang of regret as all of his friends Flooed home. Because Professor Snape had to man the Floo in the Slytherin common room, they wouldn't be leaving until later that afternoon. Harry wasn't entirely sure of what the plan was, since he had seen the professor only briefly the morning before, after Potions class, and the man had been pretty tight lipped, only telling him to 'be ready by 4:00 _sharp_' and dismissing him with an irritable wave of the hand.

With nothing else to do for the next several hours, Harry decided to go back to bed in hopes that he would get at least _some_ rest before what would undoubtedly a _long_ and tiring 'holiday.'

Draco was greeted with a _very_ unfamiliar sight upon emerging from the floo. A living room. A living room filled to bursting with Weasleys and soon-to-be Weaseleys. He barely pushed down a grimace in time to save himself as Mrs. Weasley pulled him into a tight, if not hesitant hug and passed him off to her husband. Draco managed to avoid another crushing embrace by quickly thrusting his hand out. Mr. Weasley gave him a bright smile and shook his hand seriously for all of two seconds before pulling him into his chest.

"Welcome to the family, Draco," he said with a smile that was large and sincere.

"It's an honor," Draco said with a smile of his own, pulling away from his soon-to-be father-in-law. He glanced over at Ron who was giving him a dark glare and sighed. "How are you, Mr. Weasley?" He asked finally. The man put an arm over his shoulder and led him insistently through the living room.

"I'm great; better now that all my children are all home. Ron! Come show Draco to your room! I'm sure you all don't need Mol and I up there traipsing across the house with you, so I'll let you all go on up and get settled." He passed Draco off to Ron and turned to his daughter, pulling her into a tight hug that lifted her feet off the floor.

Ron sighed, rolled his eyes and motioned with his head for Draco to follow. He listlessly pointed out the bathroom and his brothers' bedrooms as he went. "Ginny's room's through there, Dean'll prolly sleep somewhere else, Charlie and Bills' room's upstairs... this is my room." He hesitated briefly, but finally tossed the door open and ambled into the room. Draco froze in the doorway and took several deep breaths through his nose.

"There is _no way_ I'll be able to sleep in here," he said, keeping his voice calm. Everything was _orange_! _Everything_! "This color is _hardly _conducive to healthy sleep patterns."

Ron muttered something involving a stick and an arse, but simply pushed past him and went after his mother. He returned with Molly some time later, and the look on her face seemed to suggest that she'd been trying to get the color of the room changed for a long time. She nodded at Draco sympathetically, and in a few moments the walls were a calming shade of green. Without the orange walls, the posters and bedspread were acceptable. He thanked her with a relieved sigh and she patted him on the head as he left. Draco resisted the urge to reach up and fix his hair.

Ron rolled his eyes and tumbled onto his bed. After an awkward moment, Draco sat down on the edge.

"Well, at least you have a sizable bed," he said finally.

Ron blushed red to his hairline. "Actually," he said, coughing slightly and not meeting Draco's eye. "It's been enlarged." There was a moment of silence, and then Draco broke into laughter.

The rest of the family might have heard him if it weren't for the silencing wards Mr. Weasley had layered in all the bedrooms.

They were saved from a long, uncomfortable silence by a polite knock on the door a few minutes later. When it was obvious Ron had no intention of getting up, Draco rose gracefully from the bed and answered the door.

"It's lunch time boys," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile, the look on her face clearly uncomfortable as she tried to avoid looking at her son, who was still lounging on the bed.

"Ron! Come down and set the table!"

Ron all but jumped off the bed at his mother's sharp tone and shifted nervously while he waited for the doorway to be clear. Once it was, he shot out of the room and down the stairs. Draco chuckled and was just about to follow but Mrs. Weasley stepped into his path, her face suddenly sober.

"You listen to me, Mr. Malfoy. I understand full well that Arthur and I cannot do much to protect our son… but if you hurt him… in _any_ way, you'll wish you'd never laid eyes on him." She stepped forward, almost menacingly. Draco stepped backwards reflexively, eyes fixed on her in stunned awe. "Even if I spend the rest of my days in Azkaban, I'll make you sorry. Understood?"

Normally, Draco would have scoffed at such a threat, but somehow, he was sure that Molly Weasley was completely serious. He drew himself up to his full height and met her eyes straight on.

"Mrs. Weasley… while it's true that your son and I never got along, and it's more than likely that we will probably never have anything like the truly loving relationship that you and your husband share, I can assure you that harming your son is absolutely the last thing I will ever do. You have my word; should I ever knowingly and intentionally harm your son in any way, shape or form, I won't stop you from making me pay for it. Would you like an oath?" He offered his hand to the stunned woman.

She trained her shrewd eyes on him, and he forced himself to hold her gaze. Abruptly, she smiled.

"Don't give up on love yet, boy," she said gently, patting him on the shoulder. Without further comment, Mrs. Weasley turned and headed down the stairs, leaving Draco to stare after her in shock.

Lunch was a curious affair, at least for Draco. Since the whole family was home, the meal was taken outside on a long trestle table. Everyone –Draco included- helped ferry food and dishes outside. Once everyone was seated Draco watched in shock as everyone simple dug in, helping themselves to this dish or that dish and yelling over each other for items to be passed. Taking pity on his obviously stunned fiancé, Ron sighed and started piling things on to his plate.

After a few moments of staring at the unfamiliar scene, Draco started eating. The food wasn't what he was accustomed to at home, but oddly enough, he found that he almost preferred it. Draco remained quiet until Percy arrived, some twenty minutes late. Mrs. Weasley gave him a pursed-lip glare and lectured him for a full ten minutes, but he seemed to tune her out, as did the rest of the table. Seeing Draco, Percy slid in next to him, forcing half the table to rearrange itself. He quickly engaged the Malfoy heir in a discussion on the current state of politics, which Draco entered only reluctantly. Percy was easily as pretentious as he had been in school, if not more so and Draco found him to be boring. But he was, unfortunately, family. Or rather, soon-to-be family.

"So, what do you think of this Sorting business, hm?" Percy asked after they had all but exhausted talk on the new Minister. Draco contemplated the question for a moment, not missing the smug glare he shot in his family's direction, nor the tension that seeped immediately into the air.

"I find it to be a wonderful tradition," Draco answered, just loud enough to be heard. The table quieted slightly as they listened in on the conversation.

"Do you?" Percy asked, seemingly surprised.

"Of course. If not for the Sorting, I would have never had a chance to be with Ron, now would I?" Draco asked innocently, giving Ron a soft smile that he found alarmingly easy. Ron stared at him in open-mouthed shock, color blossoming attractively across his cheeks. Draco was caught by the pretty spots, suddenly enthralled by the rising color and noticing for the first time that his future bride was really quite… attractive.

"…Charlie, do you?!"

The table fell deathly silent, and annoyed, Draco turned to face Percy. "You work in the Ministry, don't you?" He asked, his voice just _barely_ tinged with the annoyance that he felt.

"Minister's fourth Junior Aide," Percy said, his chest puffed out as though it were some accomplishment.

"Fourth Junior Aide, hm? Weren't you the first Junior Aide to Fudge?"

"Yes… well, new Minister, you know… of course…"

"Yes, of course. New Minister, I'm sure. Tell me, fourth Junior Aide to the Minister, do you think it's really _prudent_ to your position to be _openly_ passing negative judgment on a program the Minister fully supports?"

"Uh…"

"But I'm sure you know your business." That having been said, Draco returned his attention to Ron, starting up a conversation about the Chudley Cannons, which Ron was only too happy to start on. The noise level picked up slowly, and the mood gradually lifted.


	10. SEVEN

SEVEN::

Harry was roused by a none-too-gentle hand on his shoulder.

He rolled over and blinked up sleepily at the dark blur that was disturbing his sleep. "Wha...?"

"You were to be ready to go by _four_!" Snape growled, thrusting Harry's glasses into his hands.

Harry's eyebrows drew together and he grabbed his wand off his bedside table. He could feel the energy still charged in the wood. "My alarm is set for 3:40," he said with a small glare. "_Tempus."_ 3:39... his wand jumped from his hand and emitted a loud alarm, complete with shooting green and orange sparks. Harry glared at Snape as he shut the alarm off and rolled of the bed. Snape merely stood at the edge of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest as Harry straightened his bed and pulled on his robe. His trunk was already minimized and in the pocket and Hedwig was waiting patiently in her cage beside the bed.

"Ready," he announced dryly.

"The bird cannot come with us. Send her to Snape Manor," Snape ordered, giving her a dubious look.

Harry rolled his eyes and took Hedwig over to the window. He set her cage on the sill and pushed the window open, wincing at the cold wind that tore through the room immediately. "Meet me at Snape Manor, okay girl?" She took off immediately and Harry watched her fade on the horizon.

"Okay... now, I'm ready."

Snape rolled his eyes and quickly cast a _Scourgify_ on the cage and then shrank it and turned without another word. Harry slid the miniaturized cage into his pocket and took off after his fast-moving husband.

"Ready Severus?" McGonagall greeted as they approached the Floo. She looked exhausted and out of sorts, so Harry tried to avoid her gaze.

"Come here, boy!"

Harry jumped at the suddenness of Snape's voice and glared at him wordlessly as he approached the Floo. Snape took out a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the fire. "Madame Lin's, Shanghai," Severus said in an authoritative voice as he pushed Harry in to the green flames.

"You could have warned him, Severus," Minerva admonished. Snape sneered at her and followed his wife through the Floo.

"_What _the _hell_ was that all about?!" Harry demanded as soon as his professor stepped out of the Floo.

Snape rolled his eyes and set to dusting Harry off, to which the younger man replied by growling and pushing his hands away. Snape sighed irritably and cast a _Scourgify_ on his young bonded. "See to it that you are on your _best_ behavior," he growled warningly. "And take off your shoes," he added, already removing his own. Harry complied sourly and might have made a retort, but was interrupted by the arrival of a short, aging Chinese witch with a gap-toothed grin and graying hair that was pulled back into a neat bun.

"Sevvie!" she greeted in a heavy accent. Harry nearly choked, but Severus merely greeted her with a dazzling smile and took her small hands in his own.

"Madame Lin, you get younger each time I lay my eyes on you," he purred. Harry stared in open-mouthed shock as the woman giggled like a schoolgirl and blushed.

"Who this?" she demanded curiously, her eyes locking onto Harry.

"This," Severus said smoothly, his voice oddly pleasant once the perpetual drawl was removed. "Is my wife, Harry." He further shocked the younger man by sliding an arm around his waist and pulling him close to his side. Harry caught a brief scent of cinnamon and musk before he was pulled into an enthusiastic hug by Madame Lin.

"I tol' you, Sevvie! I tol' you! You need _younger_ man. I tol' you!" she crowed happily. Harry winced, expecting a furious rant from the taller man, but to his surprise, Snape simply chuckled and inclined his head.

"That you did, Madame, that you did."

"Ah-huh! I did! Now, why you here, hm? Showin' him off, eh? Eh?" she asked with a lecherous leer.

"Hardly," Severus said with a dignified sniff, which she laughed at good naturedly. "Well... perhaps a little." Harry made a strangled noise, but Snape ignored him. "As a matter of fact, the ceremony is quickly approaching and I have come to humbly request your..._services_."

"Oh! Oh!" She clapped happily and grabbed Harry by the hand. Harry looked up at Snape in horrified entreaty, but the infuriating man only gave him a placid smile and waved. Moments later, the door swung shut, cutting him off from sight.

He was pulled insistently through a series of halls and finally into a small but comfortable room surrounded by mirrors. Three younger Chinese women looked up curiously at their entrance and Harry blushed reflexively as Madame Lin began talking to the girls in rapid Mandarin and they broke into giggles.

"Go!" Lin ordered, pointing to the three girls, who all stood and approached him.

"Wait...!"

"Go with Saige! Go!" she ordered more forcefully. The girl who Harry assumed was 'Saige' pointed herself out with a raised hand and, to his horror, drew him further into the room by his tie. Lin left with a hearty laugh and in seconds the girls were pulling at his robes and giggling as they divested him of his clothing, despite his loud, frantic cries of protest.

_Oh, my God!_ Harry whined in the confines of his mind. _Did Snape get me... prostitutes?!_

"We can't measure you with all this on!" Saige announced, her English almost flawless but for a slight accent.

"_What?!_"

Ignoring him, Saige pulled his robe the rest of the way off and started working on his shirt. In a matter of moments Harry found himself naked but for his boxers and standing bemusedly atop a padded stool facing six mirrors. His face burned bright red when they took out measuring tapes and started sizing him for new robes.

_Damn him!_ Harry cursed, his embarrassment still burning on his cheeks. _He could have _warned _me!_

Several hours later, Harry found himself sitting in a padded chair in a fluffy bath robe with a towel around his shoulders, a dryer on his head and an open magazine on his lap, which he wasn't reading. Mostly because it was in Chinese. His face was covered in some uncomfortable green _goop_ that felt like mud and smelled like aunt Petunia's floral perfume. He had been measured, weighed, tutted-over, giggled over, bathed -much to his embarrassment- oiled, waxed -_everywhere_- massaged from scalp to toe, covered in mud and wrapped in plastic, had his hands and feet attacked by a talkative middle-aged woman and finally had his head mauled by an effeminate young man who flirted with him shamelessly while he trimmed and colored. His glasses had been removed during fitting and he hadn't gotten them back since, nor had any of his demands for clothing been heeded. They'd tried to cover his eyes with cucumbers -as though that would really _help_- but Harry had taken the slices roughly out of the girl's hands and stuffed him in his mouth, just to get his point across. After that, he'd been mostly left alone and was growing more and more irate by the second.

After what must have been another hour and a half, he was finally taken from the chair and led to a sink where his hair was washed while a timid younger girl wiped the goop off his face with a soft cloth. He glared at the hairdresser the entire time, but the man didn't seem to notice and continued to chat and flirt while he dried Harry's hair and ran gel through it.

Needless to say, he was not in the best of moods when he was _finally_ given clothes -his own still not forthcoming- and sent back through the lobby. While he would admit that the emerald silk he'd been dressed in was attractive, and the feel of it against his newly hairless body was oddly pleasant, the clothing did not improve his mood much. Added to the fact that he still _couldn't see_, he was ready to snap at the next person who came within range. Unfortunately for him, Severus Snape happened to be that person.

"You _prick_!" Harry seethed. Harry was just _barely_ able to make out the man's face, and so noticed the raise of one dark blob he assumed was an eyebrow, but he did not notice the impressed, indeed slightly gob-smacked, look that graced his husband's face. Snape laughed - it was an unexpectedly warm sound that reminded Harry of Charlie and settled a similarly pleasant warmth in his chest. Harry opened his mouth to deliver a loud tirade, but was cut off by the feel of cool hands on his face. His mouth froze and he stared in shock and horror as the fuzzy blob that was Severus Snape slowly got closer to his face. Harry's heartbeat sped up immediately and his head moved slowly backwards. Severus Snape was _not_ about to...

"_Oris Expedio,_" Snape whispered, his voice dark and smoky, almost... seductive. Immediately, the fog lifted off of Harry's eyes and his husband came into sudden, sharp focus. He jerked away from the man and glared at him, but stopped before setting off on the interrupted tirade. Snape's hair had been pulled back into a neat tail, his teaching robes had been exchanged for a silk garment much like Harry's, but in black with an embroidered silver snake wrapping languidly around the collar and down his right arm, where it circled one cuff. The cut of the robe revealed a broad chest and slender hips and legs that should have belonged to a man half Snape's age. And a Quidditch player to boot. And while all of this had greatly improved his appearance, it was the relaxed expression on his face and the absence of those familiar lines between his brows and around his mouth that pulled Severus Snape up from 'slimy, greasy, git' to 'kinda attractive older guy.' The amused smile that graced his lips moments later took off ten years and catapulted the man to 'gorgeous.' Harry gaped.

"You're staring, husband," Severus whispered, and for the first time Harry realized that they were still quite close together. Color rose once again on his cheeks and he stepped back, casting his eyes to the ground. "Come, it's time we take our leave. Madame Lin gives her regards, but has another client to attend to and unfortunately cannot see us off." Harry nodded mutely and Snape directed him to the Floo with one long hand on the small of his back.

"Muggle/Wizard Changeover Station; Surrey," he called, tossing in the powder and gesturing for Harry to precede him.

The Surrey Muggle/Wizard Changeover Station was a nondescript building that occupied a very small storefront that advertised itself as a limo service. The Floo was in the back area, which had been converted into a cozy lounge with a large fireplace. Harry was still taking in the decor when Snape arrived. He was again taken by the change in the man's appearance, but this time regained himself quickly and scowled at him hotly.

"Why the _hell_ didn't you _warn_ me about that place?" Harry demanded, his voice sharp.

Severus snorted and ignored the question as he gently nudged Harry out of the way and walked out the door. Harry followed, steaming in hot indignation. A short hallway brought them to another door, which Snape stepped through without hesitation. They were greeted by a young blonde woman with a bright smile, dressed in a Muggle office suit.

"Mr. Snape. How are you this evening?"

"Quite well, and yourself, Ms. Devon?"

"Oh, I'm doing well enough." She smiled at him, and her eyes flickered curiously to Harry, but she didn't asked what was obviously on her mind. Harry gave her a reluctant smile and she turned back to Snape. "Your limousine is waiting just out front. Justin will be your driver today; here's his contact information. Just activate the beacon when you require pickup and he'll return to your location." She gave him another sunny grin, which he returned with one of his own awe-inspiring smiles. He gently ushered Harry through the door, where they came upon a middle-aged man in a sharply pressed suit in front of a black limousine.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked cautiously, though he had a pretty good idea, and wasn't all too happy about it.

"Your family's of course."

Harry sighed. "Of course." The sun had set some time before and Harry was reasonably sure that the Dursleys would already have eaten and would possibly even be getting ready for bed. Consequentially, they wouldn't appreciate being disturbed, and furthermore, wouldn't appreciate being disturbed by _him_. He considered cautioning Snape against going to his relatives and hoping his could change the man's mind, but in the end decided against it. Instead, he slid into the limo and scooted across the seat to make room for his professor.

The ride to Little Whinging was conducted in cool silence.

RW*~*DM

Ron shifted uncomfortably, staring at his bedroom door. When it had become apparent that Draco had no intention of changing in another room or giving _him_ any privacy, Ron had opted to change into his pajamas in the bathroom. That had been twenty minutes ago. He'd been staring at his bedroom door for fifteen. He had tried to hint that he would sleep on the floor by piling a pillow and a blanket on the floor beside the bed, but Draco would have none of it and calmly picked the items back up and set them on the bed.

The only person -besides family- he'd ever slept in the same bed with was Harry. And that had been completely platonic and comfortable, even with the ghost of their failed attempt at intimacy curled up at the foot of the bed like a giant cat. What would Draco expect of him? He shuddered at the thought of the other boy's hands on him and finally backed away from the door until he hit the opposite wall. Holding back bitter tears, he slid down the wall and rested his elbows on his knees so he could bury his forehead in his palms.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but he was roused from his own horrified musing by a gentle hand on the top of his head. He looked up cautiously to find Bill smiling down at him gently. Behind him Charlie stood, giving him a sympathetic smile. Unable to help himself, Ron rocked forward and buried his face in Bill's shirt. He was vaguely aware of Charlie gently touching Bill's shoulder and Bill motioning for his younger brother to head up to bed.

"What's wrong, little one?" Bill asked finally.

Feeling silly and _young_ and so horribly frightened, Ron whispered, "I don't want him to touch me."

"Then he won't," Bill said confidently.

"How do you know? I just as good as belong to him," Ron said bitterly, releasing his older brother so he could lean back against the wall again.

After a moment, Bill sat next to him, the air leaving his lungs in a rush as his back hit the wall. "Ron... you're in _your_ family's house. He wouldn't _dare_ touch you if you didn't want him to. He wouldn't get out of the house alive," he said with a soft laugh, gently nudging Ron on the shoulder.

Ron rolled his eyes and tried to laugh, but sobered quickly. "I won't be here much longer," he pointed out.

There was silence for another moment, and then Bill drew a deep breath and nudged his younger brother with an elbow to get his attention. "I know you and Draco have a long and painful history. And you're going to think I'm telling a blatant lie, but... I think Draco Malfoy is an honorable young man. And I think he's coming to care for you."

"Yeah right! _Blatant_ is right! He's a _Slytherin_," Ron reminded him.

"If you're not going to look past foolish House Pride, then you might as well resign yourself to a very, very long very, very unhappy marriage. This is permanent Ron; it's not something that's going to change or end come June. You have to make an effort to make it work, or you'll be miserable for the rest of your life."

"Doesn't mean I have to let him touch me," Ron muttered.

"No, it doesn't. But let me tell ya... celibacy is _not_ enjoyable," Bill said seriously. Ron gaped at him and the older man finally laughed. "If all your relationship is based on is sex... well, that may not be ideal, but it's better than basing it on mutual hostility. Besides, it can't be _too_ much of a chore; he's an attractive enough bloke."

"BILL!"

"Sorry little brother, but it's true." He gave Ron a small smile and Ron reluctantly nodded, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. Thankfully, Bill didn't tease him. "You don't have to rush into anything, though. You have the rest of your life to get to know him."

"Thanks for reminding me."

"You're welcome."

"Hey... Bill? Are you... okay? You know... with..." Ron made a vague gesture that he hoped conveyed his question.

"The Sorting? It's strange... but... yeah, I am."

"Oh... that's good... it _is_ bloody strange though."

Bill laughed easily. "That it is. Are you going to be okay with Malfoy in there? I'm sure you could always go sleep in the living room with Dean."

"Uh... no, I'll be okay. Bill? Thanks."

"Any time, little brother. Any time." Bill patted his brother lightly on the shoulder and climbed to his feet, offering a hand to Ron once he was up. Ron took it with minimal hesitation and hugged his brother gratefully once he was standing. Bill squeezed his shoulder supportively and bid his brother goodnight. Ron watched him climb the stairs and then slowly turned back to his door. Squaring his shoulders, he pushed it open and entered as casually as he could manage.

He had hoped that Draco had simply crawled into bed and gone to sleep, but the Slytherin was propped up against the headboard, his legs under the covers, reading a novel.

"Everything okay?" Draco asked quietly when Ron sat on the edge of the bed. He sounded genuinely concerned, but Ron wasn't fooled.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Tired. G'night." That having been said, Ron turned off the bedside lamp and slid under the blankets, facing away from his fiancé. Draco was quiet for a moment and then set his book down, whispered, "_Nox"_ and slid down until his head was resting on the pillow.

"Ron? I have enjoyed this visit so far," Draco said finally, his voice so quiet that Ron barely heard him. When Ron didn't reply, Draco sighed softly and shifted so that he was facing Ron's back. "For what it's worth, I am sorry about how I've treated your family in the past. They're wonderful people." Ron remained silent and Draco assumed he was either being ignored or the other boy had really already fallen asleep. He leaned forward cautiously and placed a tentative kiss on the back of his fiancé's neck. Ron stiffened but said nothing.

Draco rolled over and was quiet. Eventually, they fell asleep.


	11. EIGHT

EIGHT::

HP*~SS*~

By the time they arrived at number 4 Privet Drive, Harry's apprehension had faded to exhaustion. He imagined that Petunia was already peering out the front window excitedly as Justin walked around the car and opened the door. Severus slid out first, straightening his robes reflexively as stood, his eyes casting about the neighborhood in a frankly _haughty_ manner as he stepped away from the door so Harry could exit. Jeff closed the door quietly behind him and Harry thanked him with a small smile before wearily following Snape up the walk. Snape didn't even hesitate at the end of the walk, but quickly mounted the few steps and rapped briskly on the door with the head of his cane. Harry stayed back, waiting resignedly for Vernon's purple face to appear in the doorway.

He was not disappointed.

"What's _this_ all about?!" the man hissed angrily, his beady little eyes fastening onto Harry as though he was the sourced of all the world's problems. Well, as far as Vernon Dursley was concerned, Harry probably _was_.

"You better let us in, Uncle," Harry said, his voice quiet and tired. "I'm sure _all_ the neighbors are peering through their windows. Whatever will they think?"

Vernon glared at him furiously and stood away from the door. He gestured them in with sharp, impatient waves of his pudgy hands. Snape gave Harry a speculative look out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing as he stepped into the house. As soon as Harry was through the door, Vernon slammed it shut.

"Now what in damnation is this?!"

"Uncle Vernon, Severus Snape; Professor, my Uncle Vernon," Harry introduced dully. Petunia was attempting to observe them discreetly from the kitchen door, but would have been less noticeable if she were wearing a monkey costuming and singing lullabies at the top of her lungs. Vernon glared at him murderously, but Harry made no further explanations. Seeing that the boy wasn't going to talk, he turned his furious eyes on Snape, who was surveying the scene coolly.

"Mind explaining what you're doing here?!"

"I'm surprised that Harry did not warn you in advance of our visit," Snape said casually, his eyes glued to the side of Harry's face.

Harry scowled and turned to look at him. "Maybe I would have if you'd warned _me_ in advance," he snapped. He _had_ intended to tell them. Just not until they were almost there, and didn't think that they would be going tonight, considering that it was so late. Snape's eyes narrowed slightly and Harry almost regretted yelling at him, but probably would have done it again if he could have.

"I was under the impression that you were aware of the custom," he said, his tone clipped. Harry rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Snape turned his attention back to Dursleys. "Then you must forgive us for the intrusion. Allow me to introduce myself; I am Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry and I were recently wed."

A cold silence descended on the Dursley house. In the kitchen doorway, Harry could see Petunia's mouth drop open and her eyes all but bulge out of her head. Vernon's face cycled quickly through ash, white, pink, red, and finally purple. Harry watched with detached fascination as the color darkened until he was sure Vernon's head would pop right off.

"Excuse me?" the man managed finally, obviously making an attempt to control his temper. Or perhaps he was simply still too confused to be properly angry. And he would no doubt get angry. If there was anything worse than a 'freak' it was a 'queer' and now Harry was _both_. Joy.

"Yet another slight on Harry's part I see. Your nephew and I signed a contract about a week ago," Severus explained, his manner gradually cooling, though he valiantly maintained the polite tone he'd adopted. "I'm sure this must be a shock to you, but it's wizarding tradition for the new couple to spend a night at the bride's former residence."

"The bride, huh?" His eyes turned maliciously to Harry and Harry braced himself for whatever viciousness was bound to follow. "Is this what they teach you at that freak school of yours?! Enjoy bending over for your teachers, boy? Did it get you good marks, hm?"

"As a matter of fact," Harry said, almost casually, ignoring Snape's obviously confused expression. "I have never once gotten better than 'barely passing' in Professor Snape's class. I must just enjoy the sex. Freaks like us do."

"That's _enough_!" Snape all but roared, his eyes flying between Harry and his gobsmacked uncle.

"_SLUT!_" Petunia shrieked from the kitchen.

"Yes, but at least he keeps his sluts nicely clothed," Harry shot back.

Her mouth fell open. "Selling yourself to a professor-!!" She obviously had not thought the sentence out and couldn't find the words to finish it, so she merely gave him a hateful look.

"SILENCE!" Snape shouted, his wand suddenly in his hand. "You will be silent, boy," he growled, giving Harry a dark look. Harry returned it with a smirk. "Now, I don't know what's going on, but I won't stand for it!"

"_You_ won't stand for it?!" Vernon bellowed. "This is _my_ house! You disgusting _freaks_ came and disturbed our-"

"If you were a smart man, you'd stop speaking. Right. Now." Vernon _wasn't_ a very smart man and probably wouldn't have stopped speaking if it weren't for the fact that the business end of Severus Snape's wand was a few scant inches from his nose.

"You wouldn't dare," Vernon said, once he recovered from his shock. "You'll be kicked out of that freak place!"

"I'll have you know, _Mr. Dursley_, that I am a fully trained and capable wizard who is well and truly above the age of majority. I _can _and _will_ do _what_ I please, _where_ I please, and to _whom_ I please, and you'd do well not to incite my anger."

"You should listen to him," Harry added. "He used to curse Muggles for the fun of it." Severus shot him another dirty look, but Harry was enjoying his revenge far too much to be tasked or bothered to think about the repercussions of 'inciting' Severus Snape's displeasure.

"We are here because it is custom, and only because it is custom. That having been said, we're going to go into the living room, and sit down and have a nice chat; you will provide a meal, we will spend one night in Harry's former bedroom and then we will be gone. You will attend the wedding in eight day's time-"

"The hell we will!"

Severus intentionally jabbed the man's bulbous nose and continued as though he hadn't spoken. "After which we shall hopefully never have the displeasure of coming face-to-face again."

Vernon gave Severus a measuring look. "Never?" he asked.

Snape rolled his eyes. "One can only hope."

"Fine."

"You speak as though you had a choice," Snape drawled, but nonetheless slid his wand up his sleeve and gestured for Vernon to precede him into the living room. Harry moved to follow, but one long hand on his chest stopped him abruptly. "You and I will be having a long..._chat_ once this nightmare is over." Harry gave him a heated glare and pushed roughly past him.

Within the space of the few moments it took him to get from the hall to the living room, Severus' face had settled back into the calm, polite expression Harry still had trouble reconciling with the snarky man he was accustomed to. Right in sight of the Dursleys, Snape removed a handful of shrunken packages and enlarged them. The first he set in Harry's lap.

"Why don't you go and put that where your cousin will find it," he suggested pleasantly. Harry shrugged and took the excuse to leave the room.

When he returned, Vernon was eyeing a bottle of fine brandy warily and Petunia was gushing over a figurine of a unicorn with precious gems studding the mane, tail and base. Harry quietly took the child's stool in the corner, rocking backwards slightly on the leg Dudley had broken some time ago. Severus gave him a 'look' but Harry ignored him. The little stool was the only seat in the living room he'd been allowed to sit in while living with the Dursleys - when he was allowed to sit in the living room with the family, that is- and he didn't want to admit that he'd taken it by habit only. He turned his attention to the window and ignored everyone else.

It didn't take long for Snape's silky voice to draw Vernon and Petunia into the bottle of liquor and both quickly forgot their freak nephew was in the room, and appeared to even forget that Severus Snape was the man who had oh-so-casually announced something so blasphemous as being married to a man -a much younger man at that- and that he, too, was a 'freak.' Harry listened with half an ear as Severus expertly extracted details Harry would rather the man never know.

Petunia giggled as she explained that horrible morning sixteen years ago in which her husband had opened the door to find a baby on the stoop. She'd been so busy that she couldn't be bothered to care for a child! Dudley was enough to take care of, thank you very much! And besides, the baby cried _so_ much! What else could she do but put him in the cupboard? What's more, it kept him on the ground floor and made it easier for her to perform whatever tasks were _required_ of her during the day. At night the baby screamed, but she could hardly hear him in her upstairs room, so what did it matter? He was such a bothersome child, anyways!

Harry tuned them out shortly after that, forcing himself to block out the stab of pain his aunt's slurred words induced. His earliest memory was of sitting in the darkness. He couldn't remember much except that it was cold and he had wet himself. He was crying, but no one would let him out. When Petunia finally did release him from the closet some hours later, she had screamed at him for the mess and slapped him hard across the face. She'd then carried up the stairs by his arm and tossed him into the bathroom. He supposed he was about four or five.

Brutally shutting the memory off lest it break the dam and bring out a flow of similar memories, he instead concentrated on clearing his mind and bringing up his Occlumency shields. He could practically _feel_ Snape's eyes burning a hole through the side of his head, but he did his best to ignore his professor.

After a few hours, Snape suggested that they move to the kitchen and get something to eat. Petunia and Vernon seemed to snap out of whatever spell they'd been under -perhaps a mild truth charm- and were back to glaring at them sullenly. Petunia sniffed at the idea of having to cook so late at night, and tossed a piece of cheese and a slice of meat between two pieces of bread and slapped the sandwiches on napkins. She then dropped them on the table and announced that she was going to bed.

Vernon gave Harry a dark glare and motioned him over with one chubby finger. Harry approached warily, hyper-aware of Snape's eyes following his every move. Vernon also seemed to be aware of the professor's scrutiny and thought the better of dragging him into the hall. Instead, he landed a thick hand on Harry's shoulder and dragged him close. The stench of alcohol was heavy on his breath along with the other foul odor that Harry had simply come to associate with his uncle. He did his best not to wince, but drew instinctively away from the noxious stench.

"You listen to _me_ boy," Vernon said dangerously. "There'll be no... _queer_ going-ons in this house! Do you understand me?"

Harry rolled his eyes; like he was really going to engage in 'queer going ons' anywhere, yet alone under the Dursley's roof! Though, to be honest, if it had been _anyone_ but Snape, he might have sacrificed his virginity just to piss Vernon off. Vernon did not seem satisfied with Harry's implied answer and shook him hard enough to make his head hurt. In an instant, Snape was behind him, one hand on Vernon's shoulder, his thumb just lightly brushing over the man's pulse point.

"Take your hands off my wife," he said dangerously. Vernon sneered at him, and Harry was sure he was coming up with some retort that involved 'freak' and 'wife,' but the look on Snape's face stopped him cold and he pushed Harry away, his glower deepening even as he began to realize how precarious a position he was in. "Go upstairs with your horse of a wife and _do not_ venture down again until morning," Snape ordered, pressing slightly on Vernon's throat to get his point across. Vernon nodded sullenly and as soon as Snape released him, was out the door and lumbering up the steps.

Harry ignored his uncle and took a seat at the table, eyeing the sandwiches dubiously.

Snape sat across from him and poked his sandwich with one long finger. "What in Merlin's name is _this_?" he asked, obviously horrified at the thought that _this_ was a 'meal.'

"More than what I usually get," Harry pointed out, his voice flat and devoid of the bitterness he felt creeping up his throat.

"So I've been told."

Harry glared at him and scooped the sandwich up. He was hungry, having foolishly skipped lunch at school. He _had_ been given a few strawberries and some odd paper-wrapped meat things at Madame Lin's, but that hardly constituted a meal either.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter, put that _down_!"

"It's _Snape_ now, or had that slipped your mind?" Harry asked hotly through a mouthful of sandwich, his eyes narrowed. "And I'm _hungry_." _Not that _that's_ all that uncommon_...

For a moment it looked like Snape would say something biting, but the man seemed to literally bite his tongue. Ignoring his sandwich, Snape opened the refrigerator and began removing things. He surfaced with a package of bangers, the eggs, cheese and found some potatoes in a cupboard. With liberal use of his wand, and a dark expression on his face, Snape set to cooking, and in a matter of minutes had a plate of bangers, fried eggs and large portion of mashed potatoes covered in cheese on the table. He pushed it in front of Harry and gave him an expectant look.

"Are you_ trying_ to clog my arteries?" Harry asked, staring at the greasy food in shock. The very idea that Snape was _feeding_ him seemed inherently _wrong_ and he didn't know how to respond.

"You could use a little fattening," Severus said quietly, his eyes oddly intense. Harry swallowed a retort and instead muttered a 'thanks' and set to eating under Snape's watchful eye. The plate was soon followed by another and then two glasses of milk were set on the table and Snape sat down to eat with him.

As soon as he'd cleared his plate- and after several foiled attempts to get up before he was finished- Snape dumped the plates in the sink, purposely not bothering to clean them and marched Harry up the stairs, making no attempt to be quiet on the way. Harry wearily led the way to his old bedroom, though he _had_ considered stopping at the cupboard under the stairs and ushering Snape inside. He figured that probably would have been a little much though, and considering the sheer amount of anger rolling of his professor, he decided not too.

"Home sweet home," he muttered, flicking the lock off and pushing the door open with a dramatic gesture. "You might want to enlarge the bed," he suggested, not turning to look at his professor. Snape was still standing in the doorway and had made no attempt to enter the room.

"Why is there a lock on the _outside_ of this door?" Snape inquired tightly.

"I spent the first eleven years of my life in a _cupboard_, and you're shocked by a _lock_?" Harry asked incredulously, one eyebrow lifted.

Snape stiffened, and his mouth opened as though he was going to say something scathing, but in the end, he didn't.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned away from him. He opened his wardrobe and pulled out one of Dudley's old shirts and a pair of shorts. Snape watched him intently as he moved about the room, but Harry ignored him.

By the time he returned, Snape was already under the blanket and was scowling at the bed distastefully.

"I thought you were going to enlarge it."

"I said no such thing." Harry rolled his eyes and sat on the floor. Bunching up his clothing, he made a pillow of sorts and flopped onto his side.

"_What _are you doing?" Snape asked slowly after several moments of silence.

"I'm going to sleep," Harry grumbled. "Could you turn off the light?"

"Get up on the bed, boy."

"It's not big enough," Harry argued.

"_Damnit_ boy, tradition states that we are to _share your bed_. Not an enlarged version, or separately, but _share_. Surely that's a concept even _you_ can grasp!"  
"I don't know; I never _had_ anything to 'share' so I guess I never got much practice," Harry snapped back, rolling onto his back to glare up at his professor.

"Get _up_ on the bed," Snape seethed. "I have _no_ desire to spend any more time in this rubbish heap than necessary and the night is fast turning to morning."

Harry glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 11:57. He sighed and slowly picked himself up. Snape slid back until he was pressed against the wall and Harry lay down cautiously, clutching the side of the bed.

"Happy?" Harry asked sullenly.

"Hardly. _Nox_."

Harry closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but was finding it extremely difficult with Snape right behind him. Even as close to the edge as we was, he could still feel the man's breath on the back of his neck. It sent tiny shudders down his spine and he gritted his teeth to stop himself from saying something stupid like, 'stop breathing.'

The minutes ticked by and Harry watched the clock as the numbers changed. 11:59…12:00…It was going to be a long night.

"_Lumos._"

"Hey, what the hell? How do you expect me to sleep with the light on?"  
"Get up."

"But you just told me to go to sleep!"

"I did not. I told you to lie down on the bed. Now get up."

"_Why_?!"

"We're leaving."

"_What_?! It's the middle of the night!"

"Correction. It's the beginning of the morning. Now. Get. _Up_," Snape growled ominously, crawling over him and pushing himself up off the bed.

"What was all that crap about having to share a bed for a night?"

"We did. One _night_. Now, for Merlin's sake! Get up!"

Sighing, Harry pulled himself up and scooped his clothing up again. While he disappeared to change, Snape depressed the button on the thin wafer he'd been given and headed down stairs to wait for the limo.

A sleepy-eyed Justin met them in front of the house some time later and greeted them cheerfully enough through a yawn. He smiled apologetically as he held the door open.

"Ready to go already?"

Snape said nothing, but Harry made it a point to give him a sleepy smile as he climbed into the back of vehicle. He imagined that Vernon and Petunia were sitting at their window and cursing his back as the limo pulled away. So be it. He hoped he never saw number 4 Privet Drive again.

RW*~*DM

Draco was already gone when Ron woke. Surprisingly enough, he felt amazingly bereft and cold. Growling irritably at himself and his own foolishness, Ron sat up and rubbed his eyes. He had no idea what time it was, but his stomach was growling angrily and breakfast definitely sounded like a good idea. He was just climbing out of bed when the door opened.

"I know, mum, I'm getting-"

"Ever call me 'mum' again and you'll regret it," Draco warned stiffly, but he was smiling.

Ron glared at him. "Well I thought it was her!"

"Calm down, Ron. I know." He set a tray on the bed and for the first time, Ron turned his attention to it.

"What is this?"

"Poison," Draco said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "It's breakfast; what else would it be?"

"I… I've never had breakfast in bed before…" Ron said wonderingly, looking up at him suspiciously. "What are you playing at?"

Draco rolled his eyes and got off the bed with a huff. "I'm not playing at anything; I was _trying_ to be nice."

"Well _don't_! It's creepy!"

"I'm making an effort here!" Draco said sharply.

"Who says I _want_ you to?!"

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?! Merlin, Ron, we're going to be together whether you like it or not! Our life can be at least comfortable, or it can be outright miserable! It's all up to you at this point, because I _can't_ do it by myself. Meet me half way, or resign us to a miserable existence! I'll leave you to your musings. We've spent the obligatory night in the same bed; I'll sleep elsewhere tonight. When you're ready to talk, I'm sure you'll be able to find me."

That having been said, Draco turned and left, the door slamming hard behind him. Ron stared after him for several long seconds, the other man's words running through his head. Draco _had_ been 'making an attempt' recently, but Ron had assumed, naturally, that it was an act. Yet… what did he have to gain by things like bringing him breakfast? Or apologizing where no one else could have heard him?

Draco took the stairs two at a time, steaming hotly. He was _trying_, damnit! Why wasn't that good enough?! Without stopping, Draco made his way through the kitchen and out the back door. He vaguely heard someone call his name, but ignored them in favor of plunging into the garden maze. Seeking only privacy, he made turns at random until he came to a small clearing. Sinking to the grass, Draco pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes and rubbed them furiously.

This was _such_ a headache! Draco had always known that he would one day be married. And he had always known that that marriage would be arranged. He had always assumed, however, that said arranged marriage would be made by his father. Someone like Pansy Parkinson or Fleur Delacour, or some other such mindless trophy, who would provide him with a son and sit on his arm like a pretty little ornament.

To be honest, he'd never been too _thrilled_ with the idea, but was willing to accept it. Therefore, he'd actually been quite excited when his father told him that the headmaster was reopening the Sorting. For the first time in his life, he was hopeful for his own happiness.

The Ministry announcement had all but completely crushed his hopes. Ronald Weasley. Not only had his father been _livid_, but Draco lost not only his chance for happiness, but also the relatively easy relationship that would have been granted by a trophy wife. At least if he'd married Pansy he could have had the type of relationship his father and mother had. They didn't see each other unless their contract specified it, Mother had given Father an heir, and Father had given Mother a house to head and all the privileges that came along with the Malfoy name. She dutifully showed her pretty face when he needed her to and he dutifully showered her with gifts and riches. It wasn't a happy relationship, but it was a functional one.

Since he didn't see Ron playing the trophy wife, and he certainly didn't see them in a 'happy' relationship, he was no longer sure what to hope for in his personal life. At this point he'd settle for even an uneasy truce.

_If only I weren't a Malfoy_… he thought quietly. _If only I were someone like Finnigan. Sure, we'd still be magically bound for the rest of our lives, but we wouldn't have to stay married past twenty-one_. He snorted out loud. Wouldn't his father _love_ to hear that his only son was envying a Finnigan?

_"Well, hardly the pairing we were hoping for," _his father had drawled when Draco read him the announcement the morning after the Sorting. Draco had been positively _incensed_, and though his father remained calm, he could tell that Lucius was even more upset than he was.

_"There _must_ be something you can do!"_ he'd all but demanded. Some part of him still held to the belief that his father could do absolutely _anything_ he desired, even though that fact had again and again been disproved.

_"Don't whine!_" Lucius had snapped, his eyes narrowing angrily. Draco had immediately fallen silent. Moments of silence passed and then Lucius' eyes had narrowed. _"Well… perhaps all is not lost…" _he'd mused. Abruptly, he said his goodbyes and closed off the connection. Draco was left staring at the cold fireplace in stunned shock.

The next time he'd seen his father, Lucius had been strangely pleased. He'd made no explanations and Draco wasn't foolish enough to ask for them, but from then on Lucius had insisted that Draco treat Ron as a proper Malfoy wife-to-be.

He'd been bitter about it at first, but had slowly become more content in his fiancé's company and yesterday had come to a startling realization. He could be _happy_ with Ron. But only if _Ron_ was willing to be happy with _him_.

The sun was setting before Draco finally decided to venture out of the maze. Setting one hand lightly on the left-hand wall, he let it lead him out. He had apparently gotten himself a little more lost than intended and the sun was completely below the horizon before he finally emerged. He was actually pretty disappointed that Ron hadn't come to find him. A small, optimistic part of him pointed out that he had been well and truly ensconced in the maze and it was entirely possible that Ron had been _unable_ to find him, but the rest of him noted that he could have just _called_; the maze wasn't _that_ big and Draco probably would have heard him.

He found the kitchen empty save for Mrs. Weasley, who was washing supper dishes.

"Oh, there you are, honey. I was beginning to get a little worried. Your supper's on the table."

Draco slid into a chair gratefully and cast a cleaning charm on his hands. He lifted the cover off his plate and was caught in the face by a cloud of pure comfort. He inhaled deeply and sighed in sheer contentment.

Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "I bet you don't get food like that at home, hm, Draco?"

A moment's burst of indignation almost overwhelmed his tongue, but he forcefully quelled it. Mrs. Weasley meant no offense by the question, and she certainly had every reason to be proud of her cooking. Picking up his fork he said, "No, ma'am, I do not."

After a few moments of silence, Molly casually asked, "So what sort of spat did you and my son get into this morning, hm?"

Again, Draco had to quell his natural reaction. In his family, such a question would have been all but blasphemous. Mothers-in-law definitely meddled in their children's marriages. They meddled a _lot_ in fact, and the wrath of a mother-in-law was absolutely something not to be trifled with. But in his world, no mother, in-law or otherwise, would have asked such a bold question.

Taking a deep breath, Draco intoned, "I'm not quite sure what you mean, Mrs. Weasley."

"You can call me mum, dear. And _something_ must have happened! You march upstairs with breakfast for my son and come back in a right state and disappear for the rest of the day, and Ron didn't even come down for dinner! I'd imagine _something_ upset you."

Draco paused in the middle of another dismissive response and gave Mrs. Weasley a speculative look. "He didn't come down for dinner?"

"Nu-uh. Haven't seen him all day, in fact."

"To be entirely honest, I'm not exactly sure," Draco announced after a moment. It wasn't a _complete_ lie. Draco had no reason to believe that his discussion with Ron had upset him _that much_; he certainly hadn't appeared to be that upset with the condition of their relationship before.

Mrs. Weasley said nothing more and Draco finished eating quietly, his mind wandering up the stairs and prodding at Ron's bedroom door. Of course, he could no more see into the room than he could expect to grow wings tomorrow and take to the skies. Once the plate was cleared, he brought it to the sink where Molly set immediately to washing it. He hovered uncertainly, not sure if he should offer to assist her with the cleaning, or if she preferred to do it herself. Not that he would likely be a lot of help; he'd never cleaned anything more than his own dorm room in his life. Even his room at the Manor was cared for by house elves.

"Would you like to take a plate up to Ron, dear?" she asked when he'd been standing uncertainly at her side for some time.

"I... yes, I would."

"It's in the oven, deary."

"Thank you... I was wondering where I might set up a cot for the night that would not be in anyone's way," Draco broached casually as he pulled the charmed plate out of the oven.

"Whatever for? I thought nothing was amiss between the two of you," she said innocently.

_How utterly Slytherin of you..._ Draco thought, admiring her unexpected tact despite himself. "Your son and I are not yet wed," he explained, in what he hoped was a rational tone.

"Oh, nonsense! If you're that concerned about the temptations of sharing a bed, I could always provide you with a chastity bag," she suggested.

Draco's eyes widened ever-so-slightly. Magical chastity bags were uncomfortable and would punish the unfortunate confined within its folds for even becoming aroused. And from what he'd been told, the punishment was... not pleasant. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Of course, I trust you explicitly and would have absolutely no qualms with you sleeping without one," she added, her tone equally innocent.

Draco let out a quiet sigh. "Well, so long as I have your trust..."

"Of course. Now, run on up and take that to my sulking young boy before it gets cold. And goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight... mum, and…thank you."

She offered him a smile and he beat a hasty retreat up the stairs.


	12. NINE

NINE::

HP~*~SS

"Uh… sir?"

"Severus."

"…What?"

"_Severus_. My _name_ is _Severus_."

"Uh, okay…"

"_Say_ it!"

"I know that's your name-!"

"_Say it now_."

"_Severus_. Prick," Harry hissed at him in frustration and turned away to watch the lights fly by the window.

"Well?"

"Well, what?!"

"What did you want?!"

Harry glared at him. Every time he was kinda-sorta-maybe-almost coming to the conclusion that Snape –_Severus_- wasn't such a bad man, the git opened his mouth.

"Never mind! It's doesn't matter!"

"You addressed me for some reason; now what was it?"

"I just wanted to say thank you!" Harry all but screamed, his eyes darting briefly to the tinted window that separated them from their driver.

"And, pray tell, what could you possibly be grateful for, hm?" Snape –_Severus_- asked, his voice thick like cool molasses and bitter like black coffee.

"I _said_," Harry hissed through clenched teeth. "_Never. Mind_."

"No, please, I'm curious!"

"You're such a fucking arse! I hate you!"

"Very mature," Severus drawled, his voice tinted with dark amusement.

"I _was_ going to thank you for sticking up for me to my relatives, but it _doesn't matter_."

"Oh, trust me, _wife_, nothing I did in that house was for your benefit."

Harry rolled his eyes, clenched his teeth and turned to look out the window again. The rest of the relatively short ride to the changeover station was completed in chilly silence, Harry bearing up admirably under Snape's heavy glare.

This time there were no pleasant, borderline flirtatious exchanges with Ms. Devon and Harry followed Snape silently through to Snape Manor.

When Harry picked himself up off the floor he realized that he was still in the Floo. And that the Floo was huge. It was, in fact, a room the size of the bedroom he inhabited at the Dursley's during the summer. And there was _art_ on the walls!

"Stop gawking!" Severus snapped. "You'd think you'd never see the inside of a Floo before!"

"Well, begging your pardon, oh, lord and master! But I'm not accustomed to stepping into Floos the size of my bedroom!"

Snape rolled his eyes and swept out of the Floo –through French doors!- and Harry was forced to follow him. Despite the lateness –or earliness, rather- of the hour, they were greeted by a whole flock of people. The foyer was a large circular space with two grand staircases leading up either wall to the second floor. A crystal chandelier hung in the center and the ceiling was frescoed with a beautiful golden scene featuring cherubs and scantily clad men and women. They waved cheerfully from the ceiling, but Harry couldn't get over his shock to wave back.

"What's the matter? Expecting undressed stone? No light? Spider webs? Perhaps a coffin or two?"

"Stop!" Harry snapped. He _had_ been, in fact, but it was hardly something he wished to have rubbed in his face.

Snape might have said more, but a delicate cough drew their attention to the assembled staff members. The stairs were lined with house-elves –all neatly dressed, Harry noted with some degree of shock- a few humans, a few goblins, a centaur, and at the very top of the landing, two tall lithe forest variety elves. They were all smiling at him and Harry had the urge to duck behind Severus' much taller form.

After a few moments, a tall ethereal-looking man approached them. He had slanted amber eyes and hair the color of flaxen wheat. He was about Severus' height and slender everywhere. He also moved with a sort of unnatural grace that gave him the appearance of floating, and, oddly enough, made Harry immediately suspicious.

The man's ears did appear to come to a very slight point, but did not taper enough to be elven ears. Perhaps he was half-elven?

He stepped away reflexively as the man approached, his gold and scarlet robes fluttering around him as though he were surrounded by an unnatural wind. A brilliant smile graced his face and seemed to light his eyes and he held his arms out in silent entreaty. Harry was surprised –astounded, really- when Snape walked willing into those long arms and wrapped his own around the mysterious creature's waist.

A brief second's jealousy flashed through him, hot and wild but his own shock at being jealous knocked it out like cold water on a flagging flame.

He turned his contemplations once again to the strange man, taking in his high cheekbones and slanted eyes. Magic radiated off him like light from a light bulb and it was obvious the man was not human.

"I am a Centripath."

"Uh… wha-?"

"I am sorry, I do not make it a habit to read other's thoughts, but your suspicion and curiosity was broadcasting so strongly that I couldn't help but overhear." He smiled disarmingly and Harry felt himself slowly relaxing. He tensed up again reflexively, not trusting the strange instinct to relax around the stranger. And he'd never even _heard_ of 'Centripaths!'

After a moment of silence, Severus withdrew from the Centripath's embrace and caught Harry's attention.

"Harry, this is L'oReen, my long-time friend and head of house. He takes care of the estate while I am otherwise indisposed."

"Which is all too often," L'oReen injected lightly.

"Yes, but that is about to change, my friend."

"Ah! Are you finally leaving that dreadful position?"

"If I left my dreadful position, what would I have to complain about? No, I have no intention of leaving Hogwarts. However, my wife will be taking up permanent residence here once he finishes his schooling."

L'oReen's eyes flashed to Harry while the rest of the staff chattered excitedly. Harry could tell that L'oReen knew, and that this was some kind of act for the rest of the staff's benefit.

"So you've finally decided to settle down! What a pleasure to meet you, Harry!"

"This is the rest of my household staff; I'm sure you'll get to know them much better come summer. And please note that my house-elves _are_ dressed and here of their own will. I would appreciate it if you did not sic Miss Granger on them, hm?"

Harry flushed slightly and turned his eyes away. Snape dismissed the staff with a wave and they dispersed gradually, each filtering by to say 'hello' –or at least stare- at the master's new wife and congratulate them on their union.

"L'oReen will show you to your room; I will see you in the morning."

Harry didn't even so much as say goodnight and simply followed L'oReen up the stairs. He did his best to keep track of each turn and twist, but the Manor was so large and the turns so numerous, he quickly lost track. The paintings whispered as they passed and casually leaned into other frames to keep track of him, as though they were too dignified to crowd the frames like paintings so often did at Hogwarts.

"This is the master suite. It hasn't been occupied in quite a while, but has been completely aerated and refurnished. I hope you find it acceptable."

He pushed the twin doors open and Harry stepped in warily. The room was easily the size of the Dursley's whole main floor and was lavishly decorated in rich shades of green and deep purple. It definitely looked like a room intended for a woman, but maintained some sense of masculinity through the solid colors and simple lines. At least the bedspread wasn't covered in floral patterns!

Directly across from the door, three floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a balcony, and beyond, he could _just_ see what he thought was probably a garden. Against the right hand wall was a four-poster the size of Dudley's bedroom and on the left hand wall was a vanity and several doors. His shock lost quickly to exhaustion and Harry stumbled down the four short steps leading into the room.

Seeming to understand that Harry had no desire for company, L'oReen quietly excused himself and Harry remained in the center of the room until he heard the doors shut.

Moving mechanically, Harry walked across the room, ignoring the couches and settees, and went directly for the tall glass doors. He tested the door, expecting it to be extremely heavy, but found that only the lower half of the window opened.

Taking a deep breath of the cool night air, Harry stepped onto the balcony and crossed to the banister, where he peered thoughtfully over the side.

L'oReen found his master right where he'd expected the man to be.

"Severus… it's not even one o'clock in the morning," he chided gently, taking hold of the fine crystal bottle of brandy and moving it out of the morose man's reach. "How many have you had?"

"You're not my keeper!" Severus snapped, reaching for the bottle again. L'oReen deftly moved it away and Severus snarled at him.

"I'm not going to let you sit in here and drink yourself into a drunken stupor when you _should_ be upstairs comforting your wife!"

"Do not call him that!"

"Severus! You're behaving in an astoundingly childish manner!"

"I didn't want this!" Severus shouted suddenly, his voice pitched higher than one would assume possible from a man of such a usually deep timbre. "I didn't want _any_ of this!"

"Whether you _wanted_ this or not, you _have_ it! Do not do to that beautiful boy what your father did to your mother!"

Severus made an incomprehensible sound in the back of his throat and threw his glass against the wall, where it shattered.

"My father has _no_ bearing on this!"

"Doesn't he?!"

"Stop acting like you know me!"

"Ah, but Severus, I _do_," L'oReen reminded him gently.

Severus seemed to just crumple, his slender body folding itself in half as he fell over his knees, his fingers dragging on the ground. Despite his best efforts, he felt tears running hot and messy down his face.

_I haven't wept since…_

"Oh, Severus," L'oReen knelt gracefully at his feet and wrapped his long arms around Severus' trembling shoulders. "You are not your father, and I should not have said so."

His tears dried just as quickly as they had come and Severus leaned into his long-time friend and lover's embrace.

"But that's just it, L'oReen… at every turn, I seem to be unable to keep myself from-"

"Don't say such things-"

"I will say such things! Mark my words, L'oReen, I will ruin that boy! I will do what the Dark Lord has hence been unable; I will destroy Harry Potter."

"Shush, Severus. That is a self-fulfilling prophecy if ever I've heard one! You are capable of moving beyond that, and you know it! There is _nothing_ that says you cannot treat your wife the way he deserves to be treated! The way _you _wish to treat him!"

"I-"

"And don't give me that snit about Harry Potter being a spoilt, self-righteous carbon copy of his father, because I don't buy it!"

"I know he isn't."

"The… what?" L'oReen blinked, his tirade derailed.

"I _know_ he isn't. I've seen. I've heard. I have… misjudged him."

"Then why do you continue to treat him this way?"

"Because… L'oReen, I don't know any other way. I want to… protect him… keep him…" Severus trailed off, slightly horrified at his own admission. But then, he'd never been able to hold anything back from L'oReen.

"Happy?" L'oReen ventured.

"Yes… happy." His voice was soft, as though his throat had closed.

"Then why don't you? _You_ can make him happy; _you_ can give him the life he's always wanted and never been given. You can lo-"

"I cannot!" Severus snapped, the almost dreamlike spell that had settled over his mind shattered and he shut himself down.

L'oReen sighed and rocked back on his heels.

"I do not know why you insist on torturing yourself so. Just remember, my friend, you are not the only one being hurt by your walls anymore."

Severus stared at him unseeingly and L'oReen reluctantly picked himself up and left the room.

HG*~*SF

Seamus straightened his shirt and cleared his throat as he rocked backwards on his heels and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Come on, it will be fine!" Hermione said with a laugh, gently tugging him forwards. Seamus balked, and took a step backwards. "They're excited to meet you!" Hermione insisted, tugging him forwards again. But all Seamus could think about was how terrible he'd been to Hermione thus far and how likely it was that she'd told her parents. No wizard wanted to have the ill will of his parents-in-law, and Seamus was afraid that's exactly what he was going to find if he stepped through that door.

"Seamus! Come _on_!"

Taking a deep breath, he finally nodded and allowed her to pull him up the walk to the front door.

Mr. Granger met them at the door and Hermione threw her arms around her father's neck.

"Hermione! Is that you?!" called a voice from within the unimposing Muggle house.

"Yes, mum! It's me!"

"Oh! You're early!" She called. Her footsteps echoed loud and quick down the hall and a bushy-haired, older version of Hermione appeared in the doorway, shouldering past her husband to get a hold of her daughter.

"Sorry, mum, but we're not _that_ early!"

"Well! Oh, this must be Seamus! Step aside David! I want to meet this young man!"

Mr. Granger obligingly moved away from the door and Mrs. Granger pulled Hermione into the hall, waving invitingly to Seamus, who was still standing on the step.

Taking a deep breath, Seamus stepped through the door and followed the Grangers into the kitchen.

RW*~*DM

"This has been a nice vacation," Draco announced, closing his trunk and turning to look at his fiancé.

Having already packed everything but the clothing he intended to wear the next day, Ron was seated on the bed, watching Draco finish his own packing.

"Yeah, I'm sure a few days with the Weasleys compares to summers in France and Italy!" Ron drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"You might be surprised," Draco whispered, coming to sit lightly on the side of the bed. "Ron?"

"Huh?"

"Have you thought at all, about what I said?"

"I've tried not to, really."

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "I've never dreamt for happiness, but I must admit… I had _hoped-_"

"Give it up."

"What?"

"I don't believe, not for a second, that you're any different or that you _care_. I'm not… I'm not gonna make your life miserable or any such rubbish. But don't think I'm gonna fall in _love_ with you, or believe you've fallen in love with me! We're not friends, we're not lovers; we're going to be married and _that's_ all!"

"Is that all you're willing to hope for?"

"Don't give me that rubbish! There's no _hope_ for us, okay? I'll be your little wife and I'll try not to embarrass you too much in front of all your 'high-society' chums, but nothing more."

"Alright then. I suppose I can ask for nothing more," Draco said, his voice suddenly chilly. He turned away from Ron and, without looking at him again, lay down on his side and closed his eyes. After some time, Ron turned out the lights and did the same.

Neither slept.

Draco pulled Ron out of bed early in the morning. They got dressed and ready to leave in cool silence and Ron followed Draco downstairs. Mrs. Weasley met them in the kitchen, a full breakfast was spread out on the table for them and she gave them a bright, if not sleepy, smile.

"Tea?" she asked, holding the kettle up invitingly. Both boys nodded and she brought the kettle over to the table.

"So, boys, what are your plans for the rest of the holiday?"

"Well, Harry's engagement party is this evening," Draco offered when Ron remained silent.

"Engagement party? I thought they'd already signed a contract?"

"Oh, they have. It's more for show than anything. And, of course, we'll be going to the wedding on Saturday. You will be attending our own engagement party, won't you?"

"Oh, of course. I'm not sure all the boys will be able to attend, but your father and I will be there."

"We look forward to seeing you there."

They continued eating until Draco's pocket watch politely reminded them that they were going to be late.

"Ah, well, my parents will be expecting us at the manor. Come, Ronald."

Ron glared at him as Draco stood and put his plate in the sink. His own followed none too gently and Draco paused to give Mrs. Weasley a kiss on the cheek.

"We'll see you in two days."

Ron kissed his mother in farewell and followed Draco sullenly into the living room.

Ron should have expected the deluxe Floo he found himself in, but was still struck speechless when he stopped spinning to find himself in a luxurious, painted Floo with art on the walls and two chairs on either side of the carpeted space.

Draco said nothing as he dusted himself off and left the Floo. Ron followed, doing his best to wipe the glare off his face.

Lucius and Narcissa met them in the entryway, and to Ron's shock, their clothing could only be described as _comfortable. _He had to admit, they looked a lot less formidable without all the jewels and formal, stuffy robes.

"Son," Lucius greeted, holding his arms out.

Ron stared in open-mouthed shock as Draco stepped easily into his father's arms and wrapped his arms around the taller man's neck. Lucius laughed lightly and actually lifted Draco slightly off his feet.

Ron was so enthralled in the unexpected warmth between the father and son that he actually jumped when a slender hand fell to his shoulder.

"I didn't mean to startle you, dear."

Ron turned slightly to see Narcissa smiling at him. "Uh… sorry, I didn't mean to… uh…"

"Welcome home, son," Lucius said, suddenly appearing on his other side and wrapping a long arm around his shoulders. Ron jumped again and Lucius chuckled softly.

"You did not expect us to be so… friendly?" he asked, glancing up at his wife.

"Uh… well…" Ron looked at Draco in helpless horror, silently pleading with him for help. Draco merely smiled and shrugged.

"Well, I suppose we're all suffering from misconceptions. Draco, why don't you show Ron to his room?"

"This is a guest room," Draco explained, pushing the door open. "My parents are not quite so…liberal? As yours." He offered his fiancé a smile. Ron pursed his lips and pushed past him into the room.

As he had expected, the room was large. Not massive, but large. Probably about the size of the living room at the Burrow. A queen sized four poster sat in one corner and a rocking chair sat beside a tall bay window. A couch and low table crouched in front of the fireplace and an open door revealed a clean lavatory.

"Is this okay?" Draco asked, hovering in the door. Ron turned to shout at him, but stopped. Draco's expression seemed to indicate that he was actually concerned about whether or not Ron liked his room, not trying to rub it into his face that this room was the size of his living room.

"Uh… yeah… it's fine."

"Good. My mother will be glad that you like it. I'll let you get unpacked. Someone will probably send a house-elf up to bring you down for luncheon in a while. My mother will probably want to get you started on your… training soon."

"….Training?"

"Well… you're going to be a Malfoy. Don't take offense to this, but…"

"I'm going to have to act like one. Yeah, I figured."

A house-elf was indeed sent to fetch him for lunch, yet as bored as he'd been in the massive room by himself, he found he was suddenly terrified of venturing out of it. Sure, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had _seemed_ nice –downright warm, really- but that didn't mean that they would _stay_ nice. What if they were just yanking his chain? Pulling a little prank, so to speak? He looked down worriedly at his clothing. He had dressed in a faded brown robe, figuring that no matter how casual the Malfoys appeared to be, no one would look kindly upon him showing up in pants and a tee shirt. He stopped uncertainly in the hall… maybe he should change into something different? This robe was a little shabby –well, they all were really, being hand-me-downs from his older brothers- but the green one didn't show as much wear, right?

"Is master coming?" the little house-elf asked, making Ron jump.

"Uh… yeah. I guess." Sighing in resignation, he followed the house-elf down the hall toward what he supposed would be a dining room of sorts.

The elf announced him at the door, her high pitched voice making him wince and the sudden attention making him blush. The other Malfoys were already in the much-too-large room, seated at a table that would comfortably host his entire family. Extended and all.

Shifting nervously, Ron entered the room. Both Draco and his father rose as he stepped closer to the table and Ron froze, wondering if he'd done something wrong. He was going to be told to change; he could practically _feel_ Lucius and Narcissa's eyes pulling apart the fabric of his robe and just knew that he'd be sent back up to his room to find something more suitable. He straightened his back, squared his shoulders and glared at the standing Lord Malfoy, daring him to say anything. Okay… so he couldn't do much about it if he was told to change except… change, but he'd still put up a fight!

Lucius coughed discreetly and Draco startled slightly.

"Forgive me," he said with a sickly sweet smile, stepping away from his chair and walking around the table. He pulled out another chair and gestured for Ron to sit. Ron stared at him slack-jawed.

"I don't need you to pull out my chair," he muttered, but sat nonetheless.

"It is a husband's duty and pleasure to dote on his wife, Ronald," Narcissa said, giving him a smile as he sat. Ron felt his cheeks color and looked down at his hands. As soon as he was seated, Lucius took his seat at the head of the table and Draco went back around to his own seat. He gave Ron an encouraging smile, which was returned with a sullen glare.

"Sit up straight, dear," Narcissa said, one hand sliding behind his back and pushing into the center, forcing him to arch forward.

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his chair as talk picked up where it had apparently left off. Ron didn't follow the discussion beyond 'I hear France…'

A few moments later a plate of tiny sandwiches, fruit and cheese appeared in front of him and Ron glanced at it suspiciously. He waited to start eating until he saw what everyone else was doing, paying specific attention to how Narcissa handled the food. The tiny sandwiches she picked up one at a time with two fingers, the others held out delicately, while the fruit and cheese was cut into tiny slivers –including the grapes- and eaten with little forks. Ron sighed and tried to replicate her actions, but the grapes wouldn't stay still to cut, he ended up mangling the strawberries and the little sandwiches felt awkward in his fingers.

He was aware of the scrutiny he was under and tried his best to ignore their casual, measuring glances. At home, he would have just scooped the fruit up in his hands and eaten the sandwiches four at a time, while stuffing bits of cheese in his already full mouth. Then again, at home, mum wouldn't have made tiny finger sandwiches and fruit and cheese plates. He sighed and tried to sit back, but Narcissa's hand once again pressed into his back and he shot forward, making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat that was ignored by his 'dining companions.'

Once lunch was over, Draco gave him a warmish smile and rose with his father. Ron started as though to follow them, but Narcissa put a hand on his arm and he stilled. Lucius presented his wife with a kiss on the cheek as he passed and Draco paused to do the same with him.

"You're doing fine," he whispered as he leaned over and pressed his lips politely to Ron's cheek, making him blush furiously. Ron watched Draco's back as he left the room and desperately wished he could follow.

"Normally we don't take lunch in the formal dining hall when we're alone, but I needed to see what we have to work with," Narcissa announced as soon as the door closed.

Ron turned to face her nervously, hunching over defensively.

"I can see that you were trying. But there is much for you to learn and not a lot of time for you to learn it. You're at a bit of a disadvantage here. Most people your age having been learning these things since they were very small, but you'll be expected to be just as refined as any of them soon enough. So we'll start now." She gave him a chilly smile that gave the strangest illusion of being sincere but obviously wasn't and clapped her hands. A house-elf appeared immediately and waited for her instructions.

"Clear the table and bring out fresh plates and settings," she commanded. The elf disappeared immediately and the table was cleared and then reset. "Now," she started, gesturing to the silverware.

Ron let out a small sigh and settled in for a long lesson.


	13. TEN

TEN::

HP*~*SS

"My Lord?" L'oReen called, stepping into the room. It appeared to be empty, but he knew Harry hadn't left the room since his arrival. L'oReen had checked on him after leaving Severus and found the doors to the balcony open. A moment's dread had risen in him at the sight and he'd hurried to the doors, half expecting to find that the boy had leapt over the banister. To his great relief, he'd merely fallen asleep on one of the chaise lounges. L'oReen had picked him up and brought him to the bed, detailing a house elf to keep an eye on his activities after that.

"My Lord?" he tried again, stepping further into the room. The bathroom door was closed, emitting only the faintest sounds of movement from within. He stepped up close the door and set a hand against the cool wood. "My Lord, your guests will be arriving soon, and the Lord and Lady Snape have arrived early to meet you."

"Come in," Harry called after a minute.

L'oReen turned the knob and let himself in the room, being careful to avert his eyes.

"It's okay. The curtain is closed," Harry told him, his voice soft.

The Centripath straightened and turned towards the large tub, verifying that the charmed curtain was, indeed, closed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your bath, but you need to get ready for this evening," he said, keeping his voice as soft and non-threatening as he could. A wave of emotion washed over him and he stilled briefly, quickly picking up on the melancholy and panic, among other things, that momentarily suffused his consciousness. He gently pushed the wave away and set up a partial barrier to keep the boy's confused and helpless emotions from affecting him.

"Can't you just tell them that I'm sick?" Harry tried.

L'oReen gave him a soft smile, reminded of another terrified boy who'd asked him the same thing so many years ago. He answered now and he did then. "It would not aid you in the long run if I did."

"I don't even know what to wear," Harry confessed finally. "Or who's going to be there, or what to say to them, or how to act! I'm just going to make a fool of myself _and_ Snape and really, wouldn't that be worse than just telling them that I'm deathly ill and can never leave my room again?" Harry tried, obviously going for a light, joking tone, but the desperate truth of the matter came through anyways.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine. Either Severus or I will be by your side the entire night. Why don't you get out and dry off and I'll get your robes ready?" L'oReen said gently, keeping his own voice soothing and calm. Harry gave him a resigned affirmative and L'oReen abandoned the bathing chamber in favor of the wardrobe.

He closed the door and gave the handle a sharp twist to the left before opening it again to reveal Harry's wardrobe. Madame Lin had sent over the first shipment early in the morning and the clothing had already been arranged on the hangers according to style, color and fabric. He chose an emerald robe with gold embroidery and selected the appropriate shirt, vest and pants to wear beneath. When he emerged, Harry was already standing nervously by the bed, clutching the collar of his dressing gown as he tried to pull himself together.

"My Lord?"

"Please don't call me that," Harry said, his voice strangely weary, even as his body seemed to be poised for a fight.

"What would you rather I call you?"

"Harry is fine," the boy answered, his eyes darkening for a moment. He made a visible effort to smile. "Because 'Mr. Potter' doesn't apply anymore, right?" He'd been trying, again, to aim for light-hearted, but came off depressingly honest. L'oReen gave him a sympathetic smile and approached him with his arms held out, the fine robes extended for his approval.

Harry gave them a quick glance and took them from the Centripath. L'oReen waited for him to remove his dressing gown, but Harry merely gave him a nervous look before darting into the bathroom.

He emerged a moment later, having gotten the shirt, vest and pants on fine but was holding the robe out in front of him and glaring.

"Can we try something else? This thing has got to have a thousand buttons!"

L'oReen laughed and made a gesture for the robe. Harry sighed and held it out to him then stood patiently while L'oReen literally pieced it together and secured all the buttons and fastenings. Tiny 24 karat gold buttons went up the sleeves from wrist to elbow, all the way up both sides from floor to hip, from the neck to the waist, front and back and a series of frog hooks kept everything in place. Harry tugged at the high collar and the tight sleeves and offered L'oReen a glare.

"Couldn't have picked something less complicated?" he asked, much to the Centripath's amusement.

"It's not so bad really," he said with a smile. "As long as you have help."

"Or had stopped fooling around and charmed the buttons closed," announced a dry voice at the door. Harry whirled and glared at him while L'oReen pursed his lips and gave Severus a dark look. Of course he could have charmed the buttons closed, but Harry had desperately needed the time to collect himself and something else to focus on besides the upcoming function and the dreaded 'meet the parents.'

"Are you finished yet?" Severus asked, giving Harry a once over. The boy looked magnificent, but he wasn't about to _tell_ him that, no matter how much it might help his flagging sense of self-confidence.

"Acceptable?" Harry asked caustically, spinning with his arms out. The robe flowed around him like water, the special fabric being just heavy enough to create a blossoming effect when he moved. It was the same sort of fabric Severus used in his everyday wardrobe for just that very effect.

"Get your shoes on, Potter."

"I thought we were on a first name basis, _Severus_," Harry reminded him, his voice pitched low and tone deliberately nasty. L'oReen sighed and without a word returned to the wardrobe to bring out Harry's tall boots.

Made of black whelping hide, the boots would go up to Harry's knee and display his calves flatteringly. L'oReen had intended to fasten the multitude of straps and clips manually for the same reason he labored over the tiny buttons, but now that Severus had intruded on the small amount of time Harry had left before he was tossed to the lions, the plan was no longer possible and would probably only succeed in making Harry more frustrated and nervous.

He set the boots next to a chair and gestured for Harry to sit, but before he could kneel and help him with the boots, Harry snatched them up and began shoving his foot into one, wrestling with the tight leather and growing more and more angry every second the boot didn't cooperate. Yet L'oReen could sense that he would be only more incensed if someone tried to help him now.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin!" Severus snapped, finally fed up with watching his wife struggle. He went to his knees and yanked the boot out of Harry's hand.

"I can do it myself!" Harry shouted, genuine fury flashing in his eyes.

"Obviously, you _cannot_," Severus shot back. Harry glowered at him hotly while Severus opened the fastenings with a flick of his wand and roughly shoved them onto Harry's feet before refastening the straps with another muttered charm. He rose to his feet and Harry continued to glare at him.

"I could have managed," he growled through clenched teeth.

"Maybe if you'd had another week to do so," Severus returned, his voice tainted with sarcastic scorn.

L'oReen shook his head and intervened, physically putting himself between them and pulling Harry up from the chair. He brushed the boy down and gave him a little push towards the door.

"Come, Severus, wouldn't want to keep your parents waiting, now would we?" he asked, his voice chilly and eyes alight with disappointment as he looked over his shoulder at the tall Lord of the Manor. Severus had the good grace to give him an almost apologetic wince, but did not express his regret to his wife, who most needed to hear it.

As soon as they were out the door, Severus pulled ahead of them.

"We'll be in the Solar room," he said over his shoulder. L'oReen put a hand on Harry's shoulder to hold him back a little while Severus stretched his legs and hurried down the corridor.

"We'll take the long way," L'oReen said, giving him a smile. "We'll take a little tour. You're in the master bedroom and the surrounding corridors make up the 'private' wing of the Manor. No one but family and close friends venture into this part of the Manor. The other wings hold guest rooms and social halls."

"Snape said I would have my own wing," Harry said suddenly, giving L'oReen a searching, pleading look.

"He had planned to have you in one of the tower wings, I believe, but we haven't set anything up. Sometime before you leave for school, we'll take a more complete tour and you can choose your room and, I'm sure, have the surrounding wing. Through here is the private library. There's a larger and less controversial library in the 'public' wing."

Harry peeked into the library briefly and could just see Hermione's reaction to it. From what he could see from the brief look, it was easily the size of Hogwarts' library, and, from L'oReen's comment, probably contained quite a few books that wouldn't be available to students. He made a mental note to invite her over for the winter holidays, at least for a day or so.

_As long as _Severus_ allows it, _he thought darkly.

They wandered through the halls, L'oReen pointing out empty rooms and introducing Snape ancestors who glared down their noses and muttered about 'Potters in the halls of my fathers'?!" L'oReen ignored them and Harry made it a point to sneer at them as he passed, and once even gave into the urge to stick his tongue out a particularly pompous woman, who let out a scandalized gasp and turned her nose up.

"All right, Harry, we're here. I know you've received no training on how to deal with these people, but I think you'll be okay. Just remember that you're the _wife_. Be deferential to your husband and his father, and do your best to be sweet and quiet with his mother. She'll do most of the talking, and you may, at best, be asked a few vague questions about school or the weather. Helene is a she-wolf in a poodle's clothing so consider things very carefully before answering them. And however you may feel about Severus, at no time should you let them know that you're not happy. I guarantee you will regret it."

"What will she do?" Harry asked, already considering letting Snape have a piece of his mind while he couldn't say anything about it.

"She may very well use it as an excuse to move in."

Harry gave him a searching look and weighed the prospect of having a mother-in-law in house versus getting a little payback. Eventually, he decided that it probably wasn't worth it, but he was sorely tempted.

"Now, I'm going to announce you. Take a deep breath and calm down; you'll be fine," L'oReen told him, his smile reassuring despite Harry's frazzled nerves. He nodded and closed his eyes while L'oReen pushed the door open and took a step into the room beyond.

"The Lordess Harry Snape," he announced, his voice just loud enough to carry, but soft enough not to be intrusive. He stepped away from the door and ushered Harry in with a soft smile and a slight hand gesture. Harry squared his shoulders and stepped into the room, trying to school his expression into something like Malfoy's. Cold and austere, without seeming prickish. Well, _he'd_ always thought that Malfoy looked prickish no matter what, but he could see the advantage of the expression; it didn't show emotion and it didn't invite approach.

Snape and another man Harry didn't recognize rose as he approached and Harry forced himself to give them a small smile. Snape gestured to an overstuffed armchair and Harry slid into it. As soon as he was seated the other two men also returned to their chairs.

"Harry, this is my mother and father, and my brother Aiden." He then turned to his family and reached across the small table separating them to pick up Harry's hand. "And this is my new wife, Harry, formerly of the Potter family."

Harry's hand tightened in Snape's and his arm tensed as though to pull away, but Snape tightened his grip and Harry reluctantly allowed the implied intimacy. His eyes lifted slowly from his lap and surveyed the people in front of him. His mother –Helene, L'oReen had called her- was a slender thing who looked more Severus' age than her husband's. She had red hair and bright blue eyes set in the porcelain face of a china doll. Her eyes flitted briefly to where Severus still held Harry's hand and a small smile stretched across her perfect face.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, darling," she said. She had a sweet voice, like Mrs. Weasley's, but not roughened by years of shouting. Yet there was something slightly dangerous in her voice as well and it made Harry strangely uncomfortable. Reflexively, he squeezed Snape's hand, seeking some small comfort from someone familiar.

Severus glanced at him briefly out of the corner of his eye and surreptitiously squeezed back.

Octavius Snape was a rotund man fast approaching the realm of 'fat.' He had small beady black eyes that darted about the room almost compulsively, as though seeking some invisible attacker. His face was weighed down by heavy jowls and a salt-and-pepper mustache hid his upper lip, revealing only a plump lower lip that looked as though he chewed on it fairly often. His hair looked like it had once been blond, but was now almost completely gray. Harry wasn't sure what to make of the man, besides the fact that he vaguely unnerved him. Octavius said nothing and Harry finally turned his attention to the last man.

Aiden Snape looked to be about Severus' age, perhaps a year or so younger. He had short, charmingly mussed red hair and blue eyes like his mother. His skin did not have her porcelain-like pallor, but instead had a healthy golden shade that reminded Harry of the Weasleys. He had an easy smile and the freckles that combined with his sparkling eyes made him quite an attractive man. Aiden smiled at him and Harry tentatively returned the smile, his fingers going lax in Severus' grip as he slowly relaxed.

"So, Harry, how do you get along with my son, here?" Helene asked, her expression innocent and voice sweet.

Harry's eyes momentarily narrowed as he thought about L'oReen's warning. He considered his answer carefully before giving her a smile and saying, "Severus and I have known each other for quite a while." He paused while considering how to phrase 'we hate each other's guts' into something that sounded like 'we're madly in love' without saying 'we're madly in love.' "I have a good deal of respect for your son," he said finally, giving her another of his most charming smiles. It wasn't a lie exactly. He did, as painful as it was to admit it, have a lot of respect for Snape.

"Yes, but until recently your relationship has been that of a student to a professor, unless…?"

"Oh, no! No we never…" he coughed uncomfortably and knew he was blushing red to the hairline.

"Harry and I have not, until recently, had the opportunity to really get to know one another," Severus interrupted, apparently seeing the danger of the discussion.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like us to move in? For just a short time while your wife becomes acquainted with the Manor and society? I'm sure he would appreciate the help around the house and there is much I could teach him," Helene said, turning slightly towards Snape, though her eyes remained on Harry.

To the casual listener, she would have appeared to be nothing more than a concerned mother trying make her new son-in-law's life a little easier. But even Harry could hear the strange undercurrent of something far more sinister than simple concern.

"I'm sure Harry is touched by your concern, Mother, as am I, but there is no reason for you to upset your life and make such a stressful move when Harry and I will be returning shortly to Hogwarts, and L'oReen is more than capable of teaching Harry anything he needs to know about the running of a household and the ins and outs of society."

"Oh, are you sure? I know mothers are _imperative_ in this sort of instruction."

"I would appreciate anything you could teach me of course," Harry hurried to reassure her. "But you needn't inconvenience yourself," he added firmly.

"Well, if you change your mind, I'm only a firecall away and more than happy to assist you with anything you may need."

"Thank you very much."

"Boy!"

Harry startled visibly at the unexpected boom of the man's voice into the far too large room, but no one else seemed to take notice. Apparently, he was a little hard of hearing.

"Yes, father?" Severus asked politely, gently untangling his fingers from Harry's and leaning forward to fill a teacup. Without a word, he added a liberal amount of milk and two spoons of sugar. Giving Harry a deceptively warm smile, he handed him the cup and saucer. Harry accepted it with a slightly shocked look and set to blowing across it.

"You're married now, boy! When are you going to leave that cockamamie _job_ of yours and settle down?"

"Father," Severus said, his voice soft and tone suggesting that he was well acquainted with this discussion and expecting it. "My position is perfectly acceptable and the work I do is important. Furthermore, I am hardly suited for the Ministry," he added.

"And why not? That Malfoy boy is doing well enough!" Octavius declared.

"Lucius Malfoy is uniquely suited to his position, just as I am uniquely suited to mine."

"You!"

Harry jumped when he realized that Octavius was referring to him. "Yes, sir?"

"Don't you think your husband should be _home_?!"

"I…" Harry glanced nervously at Severus, but surprisingly enough, received the most encouragement from Aiden. "I myself am still at school, as I'm sure you're aware. I couldn't imagine a Hogwarts without Professor Snape."

Octavius glared balefully and turned half in his chair. "Aiden! Don't you think it's time Severus here stopped this business of dealing with _children_? Especially since he has none of his own?!"

"Severus is young yet, Father. He has plenty of time to see to his need for an heir."

Octavius grunted and, beside him, Severus appeared to relax. Harry glanced discreetly at Aiden and received a smile and a slight nod. When Harry's eyes lifted again he was caught by the strangely… triumphant? expression on Helene's face.

The rest of the meeting passed relatively smoothly. Harry followed L'oReen's advice did his best to make it _seem_ like he was paying attention, while keeping his eyes on his tea, and answered any questions as politely and shortly as he could manage.

When Severus finally excused them, Harry could have kissed the man. They walked arm-in-arm to the door and Severus gestured graciously for Harry to precede him, which the younger man did gratefully.

However, once the door was closed, Severus grabbed Harry's arm in a crushing grip and began to haul him down the corridor at a pace just barely short of a run.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked finally, having to stretch oddly to keep up with him and keep his arm from being pulled out of its socket.

Abruptly, Severus stopped and with a nearly audible growl, threw Harry against the wall. The impact forced the air out of his lungs and Harry looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes.

"You _stay_ clear of Aiden, do you hear me?" he growled, his nose almost brushing against Harry's and eyes narrowed to fiery obsidian points.

"I… _what_?!"

"Do _not_ cross me in this!" Snape warned, pushing Harry harder into the wall and then letting him go. Losing his balance, Harry crashed down to the floor and was left looking up at Severus' retreating back in confused shock.

RW*~*DM

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his dress robes. He'd spent the day with Narcissa –_Mother,_ as she insisted on being called- being drilled tirelessly on high society manners. After the dining lesson, he'd been dragged upstairs where he was attacked by a group of chatty Asian women who washed him –Ron blushed again at the mere memory- measured him, put strange things on his face and _painted his nails_. Okay, so the paint was clear. But it was the principle of the thing, goddamnit! And all the while, Narcissa went on about the do's and don't's of social gatherings

Now he was dressed in a wine colored robe –that Narcissa swore 'highlighted' his eyes- with black silk _everything_ underneath. _Everything_.

And to add insult to injury, apparently his spine was crooked. Until it could be 'fixed' –Ron shuddered at the thought- he was being made to wear a posture charm. It had just been applied a few moments ago and already his back was aching.

"Stop fidgeting, dear. Malfoys do not fidget," Narcissa said quietly, managing to keep her tone polite despite the content of the message.

_Malfoys don't fidget_, he mocked silently. Not that he'd likely ever have the balls to mock her openly. The woman was positively terrifying. They were sitting in comfy chairs –not that Ron could lean back into the comfortable padding- at the top of the stairs apparently waiting for their 'entrance.' He wouldn't be surprised if Lucius –_Father_, Ron thought with an uncomfortable grimace- and Draco were standing at the other stairs, waiting for the same thing.

"One of us will be with you the entire time, so you have nothing to worry about, darling. Just remember that you are soon to be a Malfoy wife and keep in mind the things I've told you and you'll be fine."

"Yes, ma'am," Ron said wearily.

"You look upon this life with scorn, I can see it," she said suddenly, yet her slow, soft voice made the statement appear to be anything but abrupt.

Ron stilled anxiously and looked over at her, his eyes wide. She gave him a gentle smile that somehow did not ease his fears in the least.

"It's quite all right. When I was young I went through a rebellious period of my own. The life of a socialite is extremely difficult, Ronald. Very little of your upcoming existence will be your own. Sometimes it seems that even your very thoughts are forfeit. In this world, we, the women and the wives, have the more difficult role to play. From this point onward, you will lead two lives, and you will have two faces, sometimes even more.

"There is the face you will show to society, and the face you will show to your family. The first, a fabrication, and the second, a carefully constructed front of calm and security. In this world of lions and snakes, we are neither. We are the phoenix that soars above everything else, we dazzle, we awe, we sing for them, and, occasionally, even take part in their shadowy world.

"This world is dangerous, Ronald." She turned to look at him, her eyes coming into focus and face deadly serious. "And we are the safe haven for our husbands and children. We are the tiny fortress of calm amidst the storm, the circle of saving grace amidst the darkness. Remember that."

That having been said, she rose gracefully from her chair and held out a delicate hand, which Ron took, his mind still seeking to grasp her words. She did not so much pull him out of the chair, as merely raise his hand so he was forced to stand.

"It is time."

"How do you know?" Ron asked. As far as he could tell, nothing significant had occurred to 'tip her off' so to speak.

"You will learn these things, my dear," she said, her smile as mysterious as her words. "When I reach the bottom of the stairs, you follow. Never steal another's entrance unless you mean to make an enemy of them," she warned, her eyes glittering in a strangely… _alive_ sort of way.

He lifted one eyebrow and nodded. She straightened her gown, set one hand so it hovered just above the railing and began her descent. Once her back was turned, Ron attempted to hunch over in defeat, but the charm sent a warning tingle up his spine and he straightened quickly. The charm supported his spine so that his back remained straight 'naturally' but he could hunch on purpose if he tried. Which is why Narcissa had added the _other_ charm that 'reminded' him to stay upright. He groaned softly and glanced towards the stairs.

"How am I supposed to know she's at the bottom?" he asked himself crossly. The stairs curved so he couldn't _see_ the bottom, unless he started down them. He growled in annoyance and tried to lean against the wall so he could –hopefully- see down the stairs. But no luck.

He was just about to creep down and peer around the bend when he heard Lucius' voice float up the stairs.

"My darling, you look stunning," he said, his voice carrying that 'showman's genuine' quality that Ron had come to despise. This statement was followed by the faint sounds of Narcissa's heels on the marble floor and Ron started down the stairs.

"_Women do not touch the banister, but rest their hands above it_," Narcissa had explained. "_You, however, are not a woman. In this world, you are not quite a man either. You are a Lordess. The male wife of a Lord. As you descend, you will place your palm lightly upon the banister, but will not touch it with your fingers."_

Ron did his best to imitate the 'banister hold' Narcissa had shown him very briefly as they mounted the stairs on the way to the crazy Chinese women. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and started down. He was supposed to move slowly, but make the motion look smooth. To someone who was used to stomping down stairs, running down stairs, indeed even _jumping_ down stairs, _gliding_ down stairs seemed an impossible feat and he was sure he looked a right fool following after Narcissa, who seemed to _float_ down stairs.

As he came down the bend, all eyes were immediately fastened to him. He did his best not to look at them, but of course became immediately nervous and faltered, nearly stumbling down a few stairs before he regained his pace.

By the time he'd reached the floor, he felt like a freak in a sideshow, and knew he was red down to his collarbone and up to his hairline. He was so intent on not looking at anyone that he actually jumped when Draco's arm slid around his waist.

"You look amazing," he whispered, his lips close to Ron's ear.

Ron flushed brighter and shot him an annoyed look. "I look like a great bloody ponce," he muttered back.

Draco laughed good naturedly and squeezed him briefly. "Well, you are the most beautiful 'great bloody ponce' I've ever set eyes on."

"Come, boys, or we'll be late."

"We already are late," Ron pointed out, glancing at the massive clock over the door.

Lucius gave him a disgustingly fond look, Narcissa smiled and Draco chuckled, gently steering him towards the massive Floo in the front foyer.

"Haven't you ever heard of 'fashionably late'?"

"Yeah."

"_Yes_," Narcissa corrected immediately.

"_Yes_," Ron amended, his voice just a _little_ too taunt. But he was fast running out of 'good manners' and was afraid that next time someone tried to correct him on his manners he'd explode.

"Here, 'fashionably late' is early," Draco told him.

Ron rolled his eyes and groaned, filing the little fact away with all the other junk that had been shoved forcefully into his head since lunch.

They were greeted at Snape Manor by two smiling, smartly dressed men waiting on the outside of the Floo, who announced them to the room beyond.

"Could you tell me if the Weasleys have arrived yet?" Ron asked hurriedly as they approached the stairs leading into the lower hall.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arrived with three of their children at promptly seven o'clock," the man answered.

Ron smiled at him gratefully and Draco, who had slowed his step almost imperceptibly to allow for the small conversation, picked up his pace again. They descended the stairs arm in arm, Ron barely remembering to set his hand on the banister as eyes swiveled to examine the new arrivals.

Ron set immediately to looking for Harry or his parents, desperately hoping he could escape the Malfoys for even a moment.

Luckily for him, his mother had heard the announcement and hurried through the crowd to get at her son.

"Ron!" she greeted enthusiastically, as though they hadn't seen each other in months, rather than just that morning.

"Hi, mum," Ron greeted, sighing in relief and not even minding when she pulled him into a tight hug. He could practically _feel_ Narcissa's eyes burning a hole in the back of his head and was sure he'd get a lecture on it later, but at the moment, he didn't care.

"Hi, dad."

"Hello there, son." His father seemed a little uncomfortable and shifted from one foot to the other when Ron turned to him. Being in the ministry he'd been to more of these 'high society' get-togethers than his mother had and obviously knew that you didn't hug the way the Weasleys hugged at home. But Ron needed the comfort almost as much as he'd needed it when he found out Ginny was missing in his second year. He put his arms around his father's neck and Arthur gratefully wrapped his arms around Ron's waist and hugged him tightly.

"How are you, son?"

"I'm doing quite well, Father, and yourself?" Ron said, trying to redeem himself before Narcissa popped a blood vessel.

"Quite the air you've got there, little brother," a deep voice announced as a strong, familiar arm wound around his shoulders.

"Good evening, Professor Weasley," Ron said primly, turning to look at him. Charlie laughed warmly and pulled him into a tight (but mostly polite) hug. Next to him, Bill merely smiled, his eyes twinkling mirthfully.

Percy approached them a few moments later, greeting Lucius first and then turning his attention to Draco. Ron didn't mind too much that he was ignored. He probably would have ignored Percy anyways.

As much as he wanted to stay in the safe circle of his family all night, Draco eased him away from them a few moments later and he gave them miserable looks as he said his goodbyes. He followed Draco semi-compliantly as they circled about the room. He said his hellos, shook hands, pretended that he cared what this person or that person thought about the state of Ministry affairs or fashion or the season's 'in' flowers. Total rubbish.

"Ron!"

He could have whooped for joy when he heard Hermione's familiar voice and turned to greet her. She looked stunning in her blue gown and even with a still-sulking Seamus on her arm, she looked happy.

"You look wonderful, Ron! And you too, M-Draco." She gave Draco a dazzling smile, as though they were friends and she was just as happy to see him as she was to see Ron.

"Thanks, 'Mione. You look… wow." He blushed slightly and Draco discreetly squeezed his wrist. _Oh, that's right_, he thought sarcastically _I'm not straight anymore_. He tossed his fiancé a glare and turned back to Hermione.

"How are you, Seamus?" he asked for politeness' sake. Imagine what him mum would say if she heard that!

Seamus mumbled something unintelligible about punch and wandered off.

"Still being an arse, is he?" Ron asked darkly, his eyes tracing Seamus until he disappeared into the crowd.

Hermione sighed deeply and gave him a weary smile. "It's all right, really. I understand that he isn't happy to be with me."

"More the fool him, then," Draco added seamlessly. Ron turned to give him a searing glare, but stopped short. From the other boy's expression he was being serious. Well… maybe.

"Really, it's fine! We don't have to be contracted and the actual marriage only has to last three years to satisfy the Sorting requirements. We'll survive." She gave Ron a bright smile. "Have you seen Harry yet tonight?"

"No, we haven't found him yet," Ron said, glancing discreetly around the room for a peek at his friend.

"He looks stunning!"

"He's not a _woman_, 'Mione!" Ron exclaimed, giving her a scornful look.

"I _know_ that. But he does. He's had his eyes charmed and his hair highlighted. And those robes! I just saw him a minute ago…" She rose up slightly on her heels to survey the room, not looking for _Harry_ so much, as looking for _Snape_. He was much taller. "Oh! There they are! Come on!" She headed off towards the other side of the room immediately.

"Shouldn't we wait for your fiancé?" Draco asked, his tone measured perfectly.

"No," Hermione said, waving him off. "He's probably chatting up one of the eligible bachelors."

"This does not concern you?" he asked, one eyebrow lifted.

"Not really. It would be nice if he'd take some interest in me, but he's not straight, and I don't expect to be the one to unbend him." She gave them a cheeky smile as she led them through the gathered crowds.

The reached the 'happy couple' just as they were excusing themselves from Narcissa and Lucius' company.

"Ron! Er… Good evening, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley. So nice to see you again, Miss Granger," Harry greeted, giving them a smile.

Ron stared at him open-mouthed as Draco flawlessly returned the greeting and engaged Snape in a discussion, effectively distracting him from Harry and his friends.

"Merlin, Harry! You look…" Ron blushed slightly. "Stunning," he managed finally.

Harry winced. "I'm not a woman, Ron," he muttered, much to Hermione's delight.

"I'm sorry, mate, really, I am. But… you do," Ron said defensively.

"Well… thanks I guess. Though I kinda feel like a woman, to tell you the truth. Merlin knows everyone's been treating me like one."

"How has your holiday been?" Ron asked, keeping his tone polite, but giving Harry a searching look.

"Pretty trying, actually," Harry confessed, keeping his voice low. "We visited the Dursleys the other day and went to China for new wardrobes."

"You got the crazy Chinese women too?!" Ron asked, his voice just a little too loud. He blushed when a nearby couple made a startled noise and turned to offer them an apology. They smiled fake smiles and wandered off whispering.

"Great. Probably gonna make the _Prophet_ now," he moaned.

Surprisingly, Harry laughed. "Good! Then you'll know how it feels!"

Ron was just about to respond when Snape interrupted by placing a hand on Harry's arm and giving them polite nods and –wonder of wonders (or perhaps horrors)- _smiled_. Harry's expression immediately turned into an oddly dead mask and he gave them a vapid smile.

"You'll have to forgive us. The job of a host…ess is never done." They said their goodbyes and Harry wrapped an arm around Severus' as the man led him away.

"Merlin… poor Harry," Ron said finally.

"I know," Hermione commiserated. "Poor you too. I've seen how you've been acting today. You're not too bad, you know," Hermione teased, obviously trying to cheer him up. Ron shot her a glare.

"Would _you_ like a posture charm or two, Hermione?" he asked sweetly.

"My dear, the lovely Miss Granger hardly needs any charms. Her posture is impeccable," Draco cut in, giving Hermione a smile that bordered on flirtatious.

"How come you can flirt with Hermione and I can't?" Ron asked, his voice pitched low. Hermione chuckled nervously, her cheeks flushing prettily.

"I am sure I have no idea what you mean, my love." Draco gave him a smile that he probably would have believed if he didn't _know_ him, and presented Hermione with a gallant kiss to the hand. To his horror, Hermione giggled like a schoolgirl and then gave Ron an apologetic shrug.

"He's very good at it," she said in an undertone. Ron was sure he felt his blood boiling and just barely remembered that he wasn't allowed to shout at her like he would have in the Gryffindor common room. He settled for glaring at her and she nudged him lightly in the shoulder as though to tell him to lighten up.

Some time later Seamus ambled back into the group and Draco gave him a cold look as approached.

"Mr. Finnigan, you shouldn't leave a gem like our Miss Hermione alone in a place such as this. She would have been stolen away in a heartbeat if she had not been accompanied by myself and my fiancé, I'm sure."

"Yeah, well they can have her," Seamus muttered, glaring into his drink.

Hermione stiffened and Ron probably would have clocked him right then and there, but before he could open his mouth or even cock his arm back, Draco stepped in between them, almost literally toe-to-toe with the sullen Irishman.

He leaned in close, his chin just a hair's breath away from Seamus' shoulder and lips nearly touching his ear.

Neither Ron nor Hermione heard what he said to the Gryffindor, but Seamus paled suddenly and reared back to give him an incredulously look.

"You wouldn't dare!" he hissed. Draco merely raised one eyebrow and stepped back, a small smile gracing his flawless features.

"Think hard on that, Mr. Finnigan," he said cryptically as he wrapped Ron's arm around his and gently patted his hand.

"Miss Granger, I apologize but Ronald and I must be off. Please do come visit us at the Manor whenever you feel inclined." He gave Hermione a piercing look. "You are more than welcome in our home." He then turned and gave Seamus a bright smile. "Good evening, Mr. Finnigan."

That having been said, he gently steered Ron away from the stunned couple and towards a short, portly man and his tall gangly wife.

"What did you say to him?" Ron asked, leaning over slightly so he would not be overhead.

"Nothing of consequence. Merely friendly chat among mates; you needn't concern yourself with it, darling. Mr. and Mrs. Smith! What a pleasure to see you again. Petunia, my dear, you are looking lovely this evening! Have you done something with your hair?"

Effectively blocked from saying anything more to Draco, Ron was forced to join in the chatter. Mrs. Petunia Smith was taller than her husband by a foot or more and was dressed in a deep violet gown with a low-cut neckline that extended nearly to her solar plexus, displaying the tiny swells of her small breasts and her painfully visible sternum and ribs. She was also surrounded by a _cloud_ of perfume and her face was literally _caked_ in cosmetics. She smiled a horse-toothed smile that contained none of Narcissa's pleasantness, though it was obvious she thought herself charming.

Contrastingly, Mr. Harold Smith was short and quite portly, had a heavy face and warm brown eyes. His hair was thinning and his mustache was peppered with bits of gray, but his teeth appeared to be straight and well-care for. He had an easy, belly-shaking laugh and winning grin that he utilized often. His voice was a pleasant baritone and his clothing was almost glaringly simple amidst all the gaudy jewelry and heavy fabrics that surrounded him, especially his wife's.

Though Ron decided immediately that he would much prefer to stay and listen to Mr. Smith talk, he was dragged off by Petunia to a circle of gossiping ladies and lordesses.


	14. ELEVEN

A/N I've had this written for quite a long while, and I still have part of 12 in reserve. By the time I get around to posting these things they're ready to be revised again! But I've stilled my itching-revision fingers for the moment. Once I get past 12 I'll be caught up to my current writing style. In the meantime, enjoy.

ELEVEN::

HP*~*SS

_"Lady, may I play with the hounds?" Little Severus asked. He was seated on a silk couch, his six-year-old body dwarfed by the large back and the two massive hounds seated on either side of him. He was also uncomfortable in his formal robes with the stiff, high collar and tight sleeves and made pale by the deep red of the silk around him. _

_ "Absolutely not," the Lady Snape told him, her voice as sweet as it ever was, but tone conveying her annoyance. _

_ Severus remained quiet after that, and never asked to play with the hounds again._

Flash!

_ Empty halls. Severus walked slowly, keeping his head down and eyes trained on the red carpet. The halls were too big for such a little boy, almost seven and still too little. He tried to ignore the paintings as he passed. They always said such nasty things and talked about his mother in condescending tones._

_ Little Severus who was always alone in the big empty halls spent much of his time talking with the house elves when L'oReen was too busy to speak with him. The portraits didn't like that, and neither did Father, but who was Severus _supposed_ to talk to in these empty halls?_

Flash!

_ "Severus! Be careful!" L'oReen called from his place on the ground. But Severus was eight years old today and he didn't need to be careful! He wobbled uncertainly on the broom – it was bigger than his other one and faster too, making it harder to control, but Severus was going to be the best Seeker ever! He could ride any broom he wanted! _

_ Laughing joyously, he leaned forward on the broom, urging it to go faster, and then pulled up suddenly on the handle. But this broom was bigger than his other one and faster too. He couldn't control the ascent and his little hands –eight years old and still too little- couldn't grasp the thick handle. _

_ He didn't scream as he fell, didn't scream when a pillow of thick red clouds wrapped around his falling body and slowed his descent, didn't scream when they started to squeeze just a little too tightly. _

_ He smiled up at L'oReen as the terrified Centripath caught him._

_ He did scream when the man collapsed, exhausted by wielding a spell that should have crushed Severus' eight-year-old body and instead used it to save him._

_ Severus never would be comfortable on a broom again._

Flash!

_ They were screaming again. Somehow it was more welcome than the silence._

Flash!

_ The door was opening. Little Severus' eyes flew open and he immediately snatched his wand out from under his pillow. He may be young –nine since yesterday- but he knew more curses than the boys twice his age. He could protect himself. _

_ His sharp eyes tracked the soft _ Lumos_ as it traveled from the door towards his bed. He raised his wand and prepared a cutting curse, but stopped when he realized it was no intruder, but the Lady Snape. _

_ He lowered his wand to his lap and stared at her in confusion. As far as he knew Lady Snape did not even know the location of his room, and had never visited him. Especially not in the middle of the night. _

_ "Hello, little boy," she greeted, her voice musical and sweet but there was something else… something off._

_ "Hello, Lady Snape," he returned cautiously. He'd only ever called her 'mummy' once and had been slapped across the face for the transgression. He never even attempted 'mum' or even 'mother'. _

_ She lowered herself to the bed and Severus recoiled slightly. The angle of her _ Lumos_ gave her a terrifying appearance, and made her shadowed eyes appear crazed. _

_ "You're my little boy, aren't you?" she asked, her voice breathy and sweet and… off._

_ "I'm not a little boy," he protested. "I'm nine, remember?" _

_ "Oh, of course, and so big for a seven year-old," she mocked, chuckling at her own cleverness. Severus bristled at the insult, but did not correct her. Little boys don't correct their mothers, because mothers know better than little boys._

_ "You look like me, I think," she decided finally, her head tipped to the side. For one terrifying moment the angle and the strange light of her _ Lumos_ gave her the illusion of a broken neck. Severus stiffened and tried to pull away from her. Something was definitely wrong…_

_ She reached out suddenly, and Severus, who had been expecting a warm hand gasped as the flat of a cold blade was set against his cheek and stroked slowly across the expanse of his left cheekbone. _

_ "No, no," she said suddenly, her voice pitched as though talking to someone else. "Mustn't take the little one." Her eyes shifted and latched onto Severus'. "You'll do your mummy a favor, won't you, little one? You'll make your daddy suffer for your mummy, won't you? You'll be such a good little boy and drive the bastard mad; won't you do that for me? Of course you will," she soothed. "You look like your mummy, after all, don't you?" _

_ Severus swallowed hard and said nothing as the blade was pulled down his cheek and pressed into his throat where it made a shallow incision. He leaned backwards slowly, taking pressure off the blade, and making an effort to control his breathing._

_ The blade was pulled away suddenly and she began to laugh. Her laughter was colored liberally with mania and she stood, tossing her wand down. Severus fumbled to bring up his own and shouted a quick _ Lumos_. He nearly screamed as the light of his wand illuminated her and he realized that she was hovering over him, her arms held out at the elbow and head thrown back as she laughed._

_ "Stop it!" Severus pleaded. "Stop it!" he said again when she merely laughed louder._

_ "You will be my revenge!" she cried, her eyes frighteningly large and mouth wide as she laughed. And laughed. And laughed._

_ "Stop it! Stop it! Stopitstopitstopit!!" he screamed, his voice getting louder and louder with each repetition. _

_ Warmth, sickly warmth that smelled metallic and sweet fell over his face and hands and abruptly there was silence and then a heavy weight fell over his lap, as his mother disappeared from his _ Lumos_ and something clattered on the wooden floor. Swallowing hard and getting a hold of himself, Severus calmly tipped his wand so he could see what had fallen over the bed. _

_ Eyes growing almost painfully wide, he let out a high pitched shriek. _

"_Kill the spare!"_

Harry shot upright, gasping for breath. Over the years, Harry had accumulated a lot of nightmares. But no matter how many he had, that one remained the worst. He put his hand to his forehead and rubbed reflexively at his scar. It wasn't bothering him at the moment, which meant that Voldemort hadn't slid past his Occlumency shields and started the dream. While that was good, it also meant that Harry had started the nightmare all on his own, which meant he was feeling the pressure of the stress and his blood sugar was probably too low.

As he massaged his temples, he thought over the night. The 'engagement party' had been an absolute horror. Severus had paraded him around in front of all their 'high society' guests, smiling and patting his arm as though they were deeply in love and couldn't be happier to be together. It made him sick even thinking about it again. The one highlight of the evening was that he got to see Ron and Hermione. Even Draco was a welcome sight, much to his shock.

He'd left the party early, claiming a headache, and L'oReen had wordlessly appeared and led him back to the master bedroom, where he had shed the fine robes and tugged a nightgown over his head before crashing amongst the pillows and promptly passing out.

As he rolled his head back and massaged his neck, he became aware of a soft glow on the other side of the bed. Eyebrows drawing together, Harry turned toward it.

At first he assumed that he must be imagining it, but the longer he concentrated on the odd bluish glow, the brighter it got. As Harry watched, the lump on the other side of the bed he assumed was Snape began to rustle anxiously and the space between them was filled with soft moans and whimpers.

Harry slowly untangled his legs from the blankets and picked his wand up from the bedside table. He crawled cautiously across the bed, his eyes remaining locked on the now unmistakable form of a woman.

The bed itself was twice the size of a typical queen and Harry moved carefully across it, trying not to draw the attention of the strange apparition forming before his eyes. The bluish figure became more and more solid by the moment and took on color. She was beautiful in a frightening sort of way and looked as though she could have stepped off a ballroom floor fifty years ago.

Even as he reached Snape's side, the man began to thrash more violently, and suddenly the apparition began to laugh. The laughter was maniacal and grating and instilled a terror in him that fast approached the terror he felt when Voldemort neared.

"Stop it!" Severus screamed suddenly, making Harry jump in fright. "Stop it!" he repeated, his voice frantic and body convulsing. Harry tried desperately to restrain him or wake him up, but he remained locked in whatever nightmare plagued him.

Combined with the woman's terrible laughter and Snape's frantic pleas to 'stop' Harry was becoming more and more hysterical by the second.

Abruptly the woman stopped laughing and Harry looked up slowly to see her tipping her head back and drawing something across her throat. His mind froze when something warm and sickly spilled over his upturned face and he watched in horror as blood gushed from her throat, drenching her golden gown and raining down on Harry and the still thrashing Severus. She fell across the bed and for a moment there was blessed silence and Harry began pulling Severus frantically, desperately trying to get him out from under the dead woman and away from the perceived danger.  
If _her_ laughter had been the worst sound he'd ever had the displeasure of hearing, he wasn't sure how to describe the terrified shriek that filled the room mere seconds later. Even as Harry fought harder to drag Severus away from his side of the bed, the woman's head swiveled and her eyes locked onto Harry's. Her mouth curled into a terrible smile and she rose slowly from the bed, her body moving like a puppet's, hips lifting first, back remaining parallel to the bed, even as she stood firmly on both feet. Her back straightened slowly, eyes remaining locked onto Harry's and arms still sprawled out. Finally, her back was straight and her head flopped forward with a sickly squelch.

Severus took a deep shuddering breath and continued his scream and Harry joined him as the woman began to rotate, but moved more as though the _floor_ was moving, rather than her feet. When she was once again facing the bed, she sought Harry's eyes again and then tossed her head back and let out a possessed shriek that turned quickly into that bone-chilling laughter.

Somewhere near the door there was a crash and the handle shook frantically as though it were locked and someone was trying to get in. Harry simultaneously wished the door open and feared what sort of monster might be behind it.

"Severus!!" Came a frantic voice from beyond the door and Harry recognized L'oReen.

"L'oReen!!" he screamed helplessly, still trying to get away from the still-bleeding woman. As the pounding continued, she fell silent. Her head tipped to one side and she smiled a horrible smile. Abruptly, she was gone, and Harry whirled, trying desperately to track her movements.

He was just beginning to think she was _gone_ when a sudden chill ran across his neck and his shoulder was soaked with what he immediately identified as blood. Her skin was icy as she set her face against his cheek.

"Hello, little boy," she rasped, her voice as cold as her skin. Harry was frozen in terror, his eyes helplessly wide.

Abruptly, the door blew off its hinges, spilling warm light into the room and revealing an obviously livid L'oReen. He was surrounded by a strange red glow and his eyes burned the same color.

"Leave this place, bitch!" he boomed, his normally sweet voice terrifying in his fury.

"Leave this place!!" she mocked and then flew at L'oReen. She moved so fast that Harry was left with nothing but the impression of a bone deep chill and a red blur.

L'oReen lifted his hands as she came at him, blood red clouds winding down his arms. She collided with him at such a speed that he was actually rocked backwards. His eyes widened in shock as cold, solid hands wrapped around his throat.

_She's never been corporeal before!_ he thought, momentarily shocked into immobility. Eyes narrowing, he wrapped his own hands around her bleeding throat, seeking purchase on her thin neck through the slick blood coating it.

She shrieked her laughter as her chill invaded his body, but L'oReen matched mania for mania and twisted. She fell limp to the floor and then faded, taking all traces of her blood with her.

By the time he turned to face the bed, Harry had moved so he was protecting Severus' body with his own and his wand was trained firmly on L'oReen.

"Harry-"

"Stay the _fuck_ back!" Harry snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Harry, let me help Severus," L'oReen implored, lowering his voice to something more soothing, forcing his eyes to shift from red to their customary amber.

"Don't you-!"

"L'oReen!!" Severus shrieked from behind him. Harry stilled and L'oReen rushed forward, no longer even paying attention to Harry's wand as he hurried around the bed and gathered Severus into his arms.

"It's okay," he whispered soothingly, "she's gone. It's okay…" He rocked Severus slowly from side to side as he calmed him. Eventually, Severus drifted back into a more peaceful slumber and L'oReen slumped over him as he too fell into the depths of unconsciousness, the adrenaline draining out of his body like water from a broken glass.

Harry was sitting cross-legged on the bed, his elbows propped on his knees and eyes unfocused as he gazed pass his sleeping husband and housekeeper. L'oReen stretched slowly and cautiously, careful not to wake Severus as he slid away from him.

"Someone should be here when he wakes," he whispered, easing off the bed. Harry nodded, eyes narrowed as he surveyed the exhausted Centripath. Without another word, L'oReen padded out of the room, his normal presence lost to his fatigue.

Severus whimpered and shifted in his sleep and Harry hesitated only briefly before lying down behind his curled figure and awkwardly setting his hand on the older man's shoulder. Severus curled into his body and Harry tensed briefly before relaxing and wrapping his arms around his husband's chest. Severus sighed and slipped into a deeper sleep.

As Severus climbed slowly from the depths of sleep, he unconsciously took in his surrounding and took stock of his body. His head was fuzzy and mind seemed to be taking longer than usual to process information, but there were no noticeable after affects of _Cruciatus_, nor the full-body tingling associated with any number of opiates, pain-killers or sleeping potions. Which left two options; he'd either passed out from exhaustion or had experienced a nightmare. The latter being only slightly more likely than the former.

As some of the fuzziness cleared he realized that he was actually quite comfortable, and warm and... a smile flitted across his lips as he identified the source of the warmth and he cuddled discreetly against his lover. He must have been screaming and woke the house and then-

"Are you awake?" Harry whispered softly.

Severus' body tensed immediately, his smile quickly fading and teeth clenching. "May I ask what, exactly, you think you're doing?" he asked through his teeth, his voice an uncomfortable rasp. He felt more than heard Harry sigh and then the younger man pulled away and sat up.

"L'oReen said someone should be here when you woke," he explained mechanically.

Severus waited for more, but when nothing was forthcoming rolled over. Harry had already crawled across the bed and was in the process of pulling his robe on. In his weakness, Severus almost opened his mouth to apologize, to beg him to come back, because he ached and was _cold_ and lonely and could feel the lingering terror and the rasp of a throat overused, and desperately needed the comfort. Had Harry turned at that moment, Severus knew he would have cracked and held out his arms and pleaded for even an illusion of affection, for just one moment's kindness. But Harry didn't turn and Severus couldn't force his tortured throat to make the necessary sounds to call him back.

The moment was lost and Harry retreated to the bathing chamber while Severus curled into a tight ball and hugged a pillow to his chest, trying to ignore the ache there.

Severus remained in that position until he felt the bed dip and L'oReen's familiar hands fell to his shoulders.

"Severus," the centripath pleaded.

Reluctantly, Severus rolled over, but couldn't force himself to look any less miserable than he was.

"You must stop this foolishness, Severus," L'oReen said gently, one hand resting against his check.

"I'm sorry," Severus moaned, body trembling as he clung to his long-time friend with all the desperation of a dying man.

L'oReen rocked him gently from side-to-side and was quiet while his distraught friend fought to bring himself under control.

"Tonight you will be a married man. Don't let it start like this. Don't let it end this way."

Severus nodded helplessly against L'oReen's chest but they both knew that as soon as his walls were repaired things would continue as they had, and slowly, they would destroy one another.

*~*L'oReen*~*

L'oReen smoothed out his robes, took a moment to be sure his hair was covering his ears and scooped a handful of floo powder out of the urn and tossed it to his feet.

"Number four Privet Drive!" he called.

The day had not gone particularly well. Though L'oReen had hoped fervently that Harry would emerge from the bathing chamber while Severus was still fragile and willing to talk, willing to be vulnerable, it was not to be, and by the time the boy appeared in doorway, Severus had already put himself back together and was in the process of climbing out of bed. They passed each other without a word exchanged and Harry gave L'oReen a cool look as he crossed the room to the wardrobe.

Leaving them to their own devices, L'oReen had abandoned the master suite in favor of seeing to the last minute preparations for the ceremony to be held that evening. He had, in fact, been in a frenzy over it since first hearing of Severus' Sorting the night the fateful news was delivered, but even so would be cutting it very close. Extra help had been hired and borrowed and the household was in an uproar as house-elves popped in and out of rooms, food was levitated from one place to the next, and rooms were hastily aired and cleaned. Meanwhile the gardens were naught but a flurry of clippings, floating faerie lights and flying furniture. On top of all of this, no one seemed capable of doing much without consulting _him_ first.

With guests scheduled to arrive by mid afternoon, he was not at all confident that everything would be prepared, and still had two sulking men to take care of. Severus he more or less expected to take care of himself but Harry's robes hadn't even arrived and he wasn't all together sure that the boy could even be persuaded to put them _on,_ yet alone show up to the ceremony.

Therefore, it was a very exhausted centripath with a frayed temper that finally arrived in the Dursley's living room at exactly 4pm.

*~*

Petunia fiddled with the hem of her skirt nervously and glanced again at the clock. It was fast approaching the time the card had ever so politely suggested that they be ready by and they weren't dressed yet. Well, not _nicely_ in any event. She was still wearing her cleaning frock, the one with the bleach stains at the knees and the tacky flower pattern; Vernon was in his pajamas and Dudley was wearing an old pair of jeans, scuffed trainers and a faded tee-shirt.

"Are you sure we shouldn't dress at least a _little_ better?" Petunia asked nervously.

"I am not going out of my way to dress up for that little poufter!" Vernon told her sharply, his squinty eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Petunia's eyes shifted slowly to Dudley. Her son had been quiet since he'd been brought home and told of his cousin's 'marriage.' He had come down earlier fully dressed to attend a wedding, having even tied his own bow tie, but his father had sent him marching back up the stairs with a long-winded rant following at his heels.

Why should they bother themselves any more than they had? After all, they'd fed the little brat, clothed him, put a roof over his head and a shirt on his back, hadn't they? Poor Dudley had even had to give up his second bedroom for the greedy little freak!

"But... well, won't they think we're just as bad as _he_ is?" Petunia tried again, fingers brushing at the bleach spots as though she could wipe them -and the sunflowers- away.

Whatever Vernon may have said was interrupted by a flare in the fireplace as a tall man in silver robes stepped onto their carpet. Petunia's eyes drifted slowly up his long body from his slippered feet, to his tailored vest, to his stunning amber eyes. Almost unconsciously, she backed away from the rage that darkened his face immediately upon taking in their appearance.

L'oReen closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then, in a voice like honeyed snake venom, asked, "You were informed of the time of your departure, were you not?"

"Uh... is it that time already?!" Petunia declared nervously, before Vernon could open his mouth to spill out, 'why should we cater to that pansy?!.' "Why... it had just slipped right by us!" Vernon turned a scandalized look on her, but at the moment she was far more terrified of the tall imposing man glaring down his nose at her than she was of her husband.

"Come on everyone!" she said, uncomfortably aware of how her voice raised in pitch until she was almost squeaking. "Hurry up! Get changed!"

"There's no time!" the man snapped, and Petunia got a flash of what appeared to be a fang before he clenched his teeth and raised one hand.

"Now you listen here-!" Vernon started, but the man ignored him and snapped his fingers.

Petunia felt a shudder go down her back and then something brushed her wrist and she looked down. She gasped in shock and smoothed her hands over the soft pink fabric of the gown she found replacing her own stained dressed. A quick glance at Dudley and Vernon revealed that their clothing had also been transformed and she barely stopped herself from proclaiming how nice they looked in the draped velvet.

"What sort of witchery is this?!" Vernon boomed, looking down at himself as though he'd just been covered in manure, not yards of fine black velvet.

"_This_ is what you will be wearing to your nephew's wedding," the strange man informed him, his tone finally breaking through Vernon's admittedly thick skull and forcing his mouth shut. "Now, if you are _quite_ prepared?" he asked caustically, flashing amber eyes locking onto Vernon's.

To Petunia's great relief, her husband decided to forgo his usual blustering and instead just nodded. Apparently even _he_ could feel the power and anger radiating off their unusual visitor. With a clipped wave, he gestured to the fireplace, one hand offering a tin of what looked like ash.

"Toss the powder into the fire and call for 'Snape Manor- guest entrance' if you please," he instructed, his voice barely containing his ire. Vernon took a moment to glare at him and it looked like there would be another confrontation, but, surprisingly, Dudley stepped up and dipped his hand into the fine powder. The boy was obviously nervous, but swallowed hard and did as instructed.

He hesitated when it came to actually stepping _into_ the fire, but a gentle nudge from their chaperon sent him stumbling into the fire and then he was gone. Petunia rushed to the fireplace in instinctive panic and stuck her head into the narrow opening -and consequentially discovering that she was wearing a hat- and called after her son.

"Your turn, Mrs. Dursley,"came the stranger's intoxicating voice from behind her and she jumped at the unexpectedness of it. She danced nervously from side to side, caught between worrying for her son and worrying for her own safety, but Dudley quickly won out and she grabbed the powder. Hoping to get it done before she could change her mind, she quickly tossed the powder in and called for the Manor. She was acutely aware of being spun and then was in a heap on the floor and coughing up soot. Dudley was quick to help her to her feet and she set to dusting them off and wiping black streaks from his face while he squirmed in her grasp and declared that he was 'All right, mum!'

Back at number 4 Privet Drive, Vernon was still glaring mistrustfully at his uninvited visitor, and said uninvited visitor was very quickly losing his already tested temper.

"Mr. Dursley," he said slowly, the threat in his voice clear. "Get into the Floo. Now."

"No one is going to order me around in my own home, damnitall! I won't have it! I won't!"

"What you will have," L'oReen told him sharply, "is an unfortunately irreversible rearrangement of your facial features if you do not get into that Floo in the next several seconds!"

"Threatening me, are you?!" Vernon asked, arms coming forward like a bulldog, face turning an unlovely shade of red.

L'oReen finally rolled his eyes, tossed to powder in himself and grabbed Vernon by the back of his transfigured robes. With the man shouting incoherently the whole way, he tossed him bodily into the fireplace and took a second to calm himself before following.

Vernon was still blinking up at the Floo room in shock and outrage when L'oReen arrived, coming to a graceful stop in the center of the large Floo. Without pausing for breath, he hauled the fat man up and cast a hasty cleaning charm on all three of them, not bothering for a more mild version that wouldn't leave their skin feeling dry and itchy.

"You three better listen well because I am only going to tell you this once. You are about step into a room of hundreds of people who _hate_ you, who would have you strung up, cursed and _burned_ if they could get away with it. You will be standing among the world's elite, and some of the most powerful, the most influential and the most intolerant of witches and wizards. Say one wrong thing and you _will_ be called out to a duel and since you are powerless Muggles, will be _killed_. Do I make myself perfectly _clear_?" L'oReen inquired, eyes burning a dark orange, like the last rays of a dying sunset.

Vernon, who at this point had gone an unhealthy shade of gray nodded hastily, but L'oReen doubted the man would remain so cowed once removed from his presence. With a disgusted snort, he shoved Vernon away and made a sharp gesture with one hand. All three terrified Muggles followed him out of the Floo and down the hall, nearly running to keep up with his long stride.

"Wait here," he demanded gruffly, opening a door and waving them into the chamber beyond before shutting it roughly behind them. If they were smart they wouldn't venture out of the waiting chamber. If they weren't... well, it was none of his concern.

As he stalked toward the master suite he did his best to calm himself down, but in truth hadn't been this upset in decades. As visions of stringing Vernon Dursley up by his own entrails flashed through his mind he was reminded, for the first time in a long time, that he was an inherently dark creature. It was Muggles like the Dursleys that made him wonder why he hadn't sided with the Dark Lord in the first place, and only firmly turning his mind back to Severus and Harry stopped him from doing something uncalled for. Like leveling half the manor and setting off for Riddle Manor immediately.

Centripaths possessed a naturally volatile temper that only the strictest discipline and mental control could keep at bay. He reminded himself that he had met far worse people than the Dursleys, and really it was just the recent stress that made them seem so bad. They were not worth his effort or his rage. Slowly, his breathing calmed and his mind quieted as hard-won mental barriers slid back into place.

*~*

When L'oReen entered the master suite he found Severus standing in front of the wrap around mirrors in the corner.

"Where is Harry?" he asked, peering casually into the bathing chamber.

"In his ready room," Severus returned stiffly.

L'oReen sighed as he approached his master and long-time friend. "You didn't talk to him, did you?"

"Of course I didn't," Severus answered simply, turning away from his contemplation of the mirror and walking past L'oReen to the bed where his dress robes had been laid out for him.

"Would it be so bad? To be happy?"

"I do not need petty illusions. Nor does he."

"Who's to say it must be an illusion?" L'oReen pressed, stubbornly holding his temper in check. He would need a long vacation to decompress once this mess was over. He was almost as much of a wreck as Severus!

"Don't be asinine, L'oReen. It's unbecoming of you. This marriage is a farce, a play put on for the sole enjoyment of one particular jolly old mad man."

L'oReen finally turned away and marched back to the door. "You disappoint me, Severus," he said over one shoulder as he neared the door. "I'm sure you can get yourself ready. Guests have already arrived and the ceremony will begin in forty minutes."

He shut the door with perhaps a _tad_ more force than necessary but didn't even pause to flinch as he headed back down the hallway towards the bride's ready room.

He gave Aiden a curt nod as they passed in the hall but didn't bother to wonder or ask what the man wanted in these parts of the manor.


End file.
